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Chapter Text

                                                                        One year after the death of Killian Jones

                                                                                          Storybrooke

                                                                                             1 AM

Emma Swan's cell phone rang, jolting her from her troubled slumber. Her arms flailed in the dark for a few startled moments, clawing at the air in a panic before she awoke fully and recognized the sound.

Groaning, she rolled towards her nightstand until she saw the square of light that seemed to swim through both the dark and her blurry, sleep-filled eyes. Reaching out, she captured the device and focused on the screen.

Rabbit Hole , read the incoming call, and Emma gritted her teeth, kicking her feet to loosen the sheets that she'd managed to wrap around her body while tossing and turning. “This had better be good. If the ringing woke the baby, anyone and everyone involved in the making of this call is going to jail.”

She snapped a 'Hello' into the phone upon answering it, probably more brusquely than she'd intended.

A cracking, tremulous voice wavered through the speaker.“O-Oh, Sheriff, this is Henny Penny, from The Rabbit Hole. I know it's late – early, I mean, and the boss isn’t here tonight, and I -”

Some shouting and scuffling sounded in the background of his call, and Emma sat up in her bed, reluctantly moving her free hand over to the nightstand once more, this time to switch on her lamp. She had a distinct feeling she wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon.

“ 'm so sorry,” Henny continued, “But some of the patrons are getting rowdy, and I – I suppose I could have called deputy Graham but you're the sheriff and – I just don’t know what to do, there's some fight...If the boss was here he could handle it, but it's his night off and -”

“Just – okay, I’ll be there, sit tight,” Emma sighed, too sleepy to make a 'sky isn’t falling' joke. Ending the call, she forced herself out of bed. After stubbing her toe on one of the legs of the furniture, she hobbled over to her dresser and pulled out the first clean shirt and jeans she saw, muttering curses under her breath as she stripped off her pajamas and got dressed. After that, she ducked into the master bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth.

Now she'd have to wake Ariadne, whether she wanted to or not. Of course, she could have called Graham and asked him to handle it; but, like Henny pointed out, she was the sheriff.

Making her way to the nursery, Emma swiped at her eyes as she passed Henry's empty room, glad for the visual reminder that her son was at Regina's and she wouldn’t need to leave a note for him in case he woke up.

Once inside the nursery, Emma opened the room's closet and dug out Ariadne's baby carrier and diaper bag – there was no telling how long she'd be at the bar, especially if the dwarfs were involved – and then moved hesitantly to the side of her daughter’s crib.

The four-month old was sleeping soundly, pink mouth working slightly as she dozed, seemingly undisturbed by her mother switching on the light and moving throughout the room.

“Sorry, Kiddo,” Emma apologized as she lifted the child, breathing in the sweet baby smell and tucking her against her body, careful not to crush her against the sling. Ariadne began fussing her gurgling complaints as Emma left the nursery. Awkwardly, Emma fished around in the diaper bag until she found a pacifier, and stuffed it in the baby's mouth

Eventually, Emma was through the white picket fence surrounding her house and in the door of her bug, strapping Ariadne into the car seat in the back.

“We're just going to take a quick trip,” Emma explained as she slid behind the wheel

Upon arriving at The Rabbit Hole, Emma buckled the baby carrier to herself, strapped her daughter in, and walked determinedly towards the bar. From inside, she could hear the expected sounds of a barroom scuffle – shouts, scraping of furniture on cheap flooring, crashing of glasses. Then sounded Grumpy's distinct, disgruntled hollering.

“I don't care, we dwarfs were here first!'”

Well, wasn’t that just typical?

Stalking into the establishment, Ariadne's chubby little legs swinging against her with each step, Emma ignored the two contentious groups—who were very clearly in a fight; a fight which, thankfully, seemed to mostly consist of pushing and posturing rather than actual brawling – and headed over to the lighting control panel behind the counter.

Rounding the bend, Emma, in her haste, nearly tripped over Henny, who was cowering underneath the bar. He tried telling her something as she flew past him, but she couldn’t hear what it was over the noise of the fight. Eventually reaching the switches, Emma rapidly began flicking them on and off.

Almost immediately the tumult died down, and Emma was able to get a better look at the culprits.

Grumpy, naturally, was in the center of it all, standing on a table and holding a pool cue stick.

Sleepy was rapidly blinking, fighting to stay at his most alert.

Dopey had tugged Smee's red had snugly over his own ears and -

Smee?

Suddenly Emma became aware that the Dwarfs' adversaries were none other than the former crew of the Jolly Roger: sullen, provoked, very drunk, and staring at her as though they wished she would drop dead.

The sight of their accusatory facades almost made Emma want to hide underneath the bar with Henny, but she put on her sheriff's face and called out, “What's going on here?” while looking back to the dwarfs. Under her glare, Dopey sheepishly took off Smee's hat and handed it back to the pirate.

Cecco, one of the pirates, seemed about to speak; his mustache was twitching, but he didn’t open his mouth. Bill Jukes set down a dwarf – Happy, she thought—and obstinately folded his arms at her. Stark e y, who had the best manners of the crew and had become, of all things, a custodian at the Storybrooke elementary school, said quietly, “Apologies, Sheriff. We were here to reminisce the – the, umm...but the dwarfs wouldn't stay out of our space , and...”

Emma knew exactly what the pirates were here to reminisce, and it put a painful little twist in her heart. “All right. Anybody hurt?”

Morgan Skylights, the youngest of the crew, pushed her way out of the middle of the group. Her jaw was clenched so tight, Emma was surprised when she spoke. “We're fine, sheriff. No need for you to be here.”

“Yeah, well, the bartender didn’t agree,” Emma said flatly, tugging Henny out from under the counter and helping him stand. Knowing perfectly well that the sheriff's station wouldn't hold all of the offenders, she told Henny, in a voice loud enough to carry through the room, “I'm going to have them clean up, then pay for whatever damage they've caused. Then, they're going to go home. Okay?”

“ Okay,” Henny began. “I called Deputy Graham after I called you. He's on his way, t-”

“Home?” Morgan asked Emma, cutting him off. Pushing the bandana that had fallen onto her forehead back over her red hair, face contorted with drunken anger and sadness, she added, “We have no real home, thanks to you and your family.”

Emma's shoulders stiffened, and she felt a retort on her tongue, but she just wanted to get this over with. She just wanted to go back home with her baby and try to get back to sleep, so she could face as little of this day as possible.

So she didn’t have to think anymore.

On automation, Emma began to direct the cleanup. It began well; there was some grumbling and groaning, but in the end they complied, picking up chairs and righting tables. As Henny had promised, Graham arrived; slightly disheveled and sleepy, just like her, but implacably keeping the process moving and giving her his silent support. Doc even grabbed a broom and began to sweep up broken glass.

“Should have left the broom for Zelena,” Emma mused, but couldn't even bring herself to smile. Not tonight.

But when Jukes handed Morgan a mop, the girl dug in her heels, kicking at the soapy bucket and whirling on Emma in fury, freckles standing out in her pale face.

“You don't care, do you?”

To Emma, the question was both confusing and expected: passing over her head, and burrowing under her skin. “What?” she asked numbly.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Morgan said, “You don't even remember ? It's the reason the crew is here tonight – we're honoring the memory of the Captain. He died one year ago tonight. ”

Emma swallowed the whimper that rose in her throat. “I know,” she thought, “I know! Of course I remember!” She'd thought about him every day since she'd seen him last. She thought about him every time she looked at Ariadne. How could she not remember?

“Morgan, don't-” Starkey began, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder, but Morgan shrugged him off, staggering a few tottering steps in Emma's direction. Graham placed a hand out between the pirate girl and Ariadne, who was still in her baby sling, and Morgan swung her head between him and Emma, condemnation burning in her eyes.

“No, I will say it! She didn’t even care about Hook! Because of her he lost his identity, left his his crew – his friends behind, sold his ship to his rival, and she didn’t care.”

Each word made that little twist in Emma's heart wrench further, until her heart felt like a tight, heavy knot.

And then, Morgan dug in the final knife. “She used him, and then she killed him.”

With the embittered statement, Morgan's voice rose until she was shouting, and suddenly Ariadne began to howl in distress, fingers curling into little fists and then opening again.

Without warning, the lights overhead started to flicker again, blinking wildly. Glasses above the bar began to rattle ominously.

“Oh, again Princess?” Morgan sneered over the baby's cries. “We're not doing anything – Or does the truth hurt?”

“That's not me,” Emma responded, too alarmed to be insulted. She cast her eyes about, trying to find the source of the phenomenon, all while stroking Ariadne's arms and speaking to her soothingly, trying to calm her. “All right kid, everything's okay.

As the baby quieted, so did the room. Even as Emma's confusion increased, the lights stabilized and the glasses became stationary in their cradles, until the bar reverted to stillness.

It was Grumpy who broke the silence. “That was her!” he shouted, pointing a dramatic finger at Ariadne.

“Hey! Stop!” Emma snapped, though her mind was working furiously. Was it possible? “You're going to scare her again.”

Suddenly, she really needed to leave the bar. She needed to get away from the instigating dwarfs and the pirates with warranted accusation and hate in their eyes. “Graham, I need to take care of her,” she mumbled to the deputy, backtracking her way out of the bar. “I'm sorry.

“Emma,” he called to her, brow wrinkling in concern, and for a moment she was afraid he'd follow her.

But he didn’t.

Emma had circled around the town for twenty minutes, but Ariadne refused to sleep, whimpering and fussing intermittently. Finally, Emma knew she had no choice.

There was only one place that was guaranteed to soothe her daughter.

Chapter Text

                                         Storybrooke

                                              2am

The briny scent of seawater rose, permeating Killian's olfactory senses with the familiar, consoling sensation of being in proximity to the ocean. The Enchanted Forest, Neverland, The Land Without Magic; it mattered not. The water would always be a part of him.

Stealing silently across the deck of the Jolly Roger, wraith-like under the moon and in his element aboard the ship, Killian surveyed his surroundings. The Jolly was docked at a port, and there seemed to be some sort of fishery on the shore nearby, but other than the soft rustling of the wind in the folded sails, there was no noise.

Which begged another question: Where was Cora? They had just now gone through the portal to Storybrooke together.

It was not as though he desired her companionship; rather, he harbored a deep-rooted distrust of the erratic witch, and wished to keep her whereabouts under proper scrutiny and observation, in the event she decided their newly divergent plans might pose a threat to her.

“Cora?” he called softly into the night. “It seems we have arrived.”

There was no response, and he made another attempt, “Is that it, then, love? Have we parted ways? You to reconcile with your daughter, and I to slay my crocodile?”

Still, nobody answered him. Either Cora had proceeded with her own plans, or was on her way to hinder his own. No matter the case, Killian was not going to wait to finish his own mission.

There was a magnificent cutlass in his quarters, and it was eager to bite reptilian flesh.

With haste, he finished crossing the deck and, mindful of the fact Cora might still be lurking somewhere on board, he quietly opened the cabin door and began to gingerly descend into the room – which was, surprisingly, illuminated, and by something that seemed to be much more robust than mere candlelight.

Before he could concern himself as to what it was, he heard a gentle female voice murmuring into the stillness of the air, and he froze midway down the ladder. “Sometimes I think I come here more for my sake than yours. Don't tell grandma, but I feel closer to him here than at the cemetery. Ya know? Everyone thinks I should be ready to move on. Maybe I should be.”

Still on the ladder, Killian carefully turned his head. What the devil had happened to his cabin?

On the ledge near his bed lie a large white pad that almost appeared to be a mattress, but was much too thin. Next to it was a red box that read 'Huggies', with a very lifelike image of a swaddled infant depicted on it. Killian had no idea what it might have to do with hugs. In the opposite corner of the room, there was a new piece of furniture which appeared similar to an infant cradle; however, it seemed a very grotesque, crude model with much higher sides, which were decorated with something that looked like very thin, densely knit fishing nets.

And in the center of the cabin, sitting in a chair with her back to him, was the woman who was speaking, her blonde head rising up over the backrest.

Somehow, even without seeing her face, Killian knew it was Swan.

“Good evening, Darling. If I may be so intrusive as to ask, just what are you doing on my ship?”

Chapter Text

Emma's body stiffened, and her head tilted infinitesimally. Slowly, she arose and turned around to face him. Her eyes were wide and startled, and that exquisite mouth fell open in what he interpreted as disbelief or even stupefaction.

“That's right, Swan,” he thought, entirely diverted upon her reaction. “Thought you were well rid of me at Lake Nostos, didn’t you?” She was cradling an infant in her arms, so he didn't expect another invigorating round of swordplay, but for the moment he was content with simply having her stare at him with something other than a display of irascibility.

She stammered “Killian?” and of a sudden he was the surprised one, though he tried to hide it behind the twitch of a brow. He hadn't realized she'd retained his real name.

“Oh, man, Mom was right. I should have gone to Archie. I've completely lost my mind. I'm hallucinating now,” Swan whispered, turning and treading her way to the crib, where she deposited the baby. “Ohhh-kay. I'm sorry, Kid,” she told the child. “Mama is gonna go to bed now.”

Killian may not have been aware of who 'Archie' was, or why Swan was moving about his cabin as though she owned it, but he did know what a hallucination was, and it made him quite indignant on his own behalf.

As she was sitting on his bed, he told her silkily, “Swan, I assure you, I am quite real,” and threw her a leer, mostly in an attempt to provoke her out of her discombobulated state.

Emma blinked at him slowly, as if coming to a realization, and then with no warning other than a short, sharp cry, she was off of the bed and lunging at him again. Her arms were outstretched, in the same position they had been during their fight not long ago—but this time it was too unexpected of a move for him to counter. He wasn’t even able to catch her properly, and then she had propelled them both against the bulkhead, and she was kissing him

Killian had been caught in Neverland for centuries, and the enchantment of Cora's time spell for twenty-eight years, and it had all felt like an unending dream, but this- this felt like incredible reality: vital, warm and anchoring. Or perhaps it was Emma who was the dream; in which case, no matter how or why he was imagining it, he had no desire to return to reality.

Breaking away, Emma proceeded to kiss every single accessible spot on his face – jaw, cheek, nose, chin and back again. In between, she mumbled breathless things, most of which were inarticulate nonsense, though he thought he caught 'My' and 'Killian'.

To his incredulity, and, though he would have been loathe to admit it, concern, he could feel her quivering with emotion. Over him? Impossible. Tapering off whatever feelings that had surfaced in him when she'd kissed him, Killian decided to get the odd situation under control.

“All right, then, Swan,” he said, grasping her arm and maneuvering her back a step so that he could look at her. “What are you getting at?”

Eyes wet, full, and very green, a tremulous smile adorning her mouth, Emma seemed to not have even heard the question. “How? Killian, how are you here?” she asked, fingertips tracing his face reverently.

Leaning away, Killian retorted, “Well, as eager as you were to leave me behind, love, I thankfully had a backup plan.”

This time, she listened. The smile evaporated, and Emma appeared even more stricken than when he'd walked away from her at the dark one's prison in the Enchanted Forest, after she'd pleaded with him not to leave her and the other women behind. “I – I didn’t want to leave you there! You know that!”

Now Killian was convinced that whatever lark into which she'd just entwined him was a hoax, and he felt like a complete fool for falling into the trap, however briefly. “My dear,” he said coolly, “there is no reason for this elaborate show you're presenting, whatever it might be. Do stop; it doesn’t become you at all.” Moving past her, ignoring the way her hands were desperately clutching at his jacket, he walked over to the crib. “After all, you have your son now, do you not? And that is all you wanted.” Peering closer at the baby, who regarded him with large, solemn blue eyes framed by thick, pretty black lashes, he acknowledged, “Though I imagined him to be somewhat older. And more male. Why did you bring your infant here?”

“The, uh...The rocking of the ship, it soothes her. Killian,” Emma said, voice uncertain, “how are you here?”

The repetition of the question irked him. “If you must know, I used the dried bean from the giant and created a portal. Cora and I arrived just now. Much to your dismay, I am sure.”

“But...” Making her way over to the crib, until she was by his side, Emma asked, “You're saying that the last thing you can remember is...working with Cora?”

Peering at her with scrutiny, working to decipher if her question was one borne of sarcasm or not, Killian noticed that her hand was angling towards his, as though she was expecting him to take it. Perhaps even more curious was the fact that he was almost sure the motion was unconscious on her part. “Darling, as I am sure you'll recall, I am working with Cora, which was the crux of the rather delightful disagreement between you and myself, beside the lake. Please don't tell me you've already forgotten that; it's the fondest of my most recent memories!”

Killian expected his jeering to be met with the usual stony silence and frigid glare, but instead Emma gently placed her arms on his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Okay. Here's the thing...I don't know what's going on, but what I do know is that you're talking about something that happened about three years ago. Cora's long dead and you -”

Here her eyes misted again, and she swallowed hard, lightly brushing his chin with her palm. “You're supposed to be dead, too.”

She sounded so certain, so positive that what she was saying was true, that Killian found himself staring down at his own hand in alarm, wondering if he'd see a spectral facsimile in its place. Naturally, he did not. “You haven't gotten into the rum, have you?” he intoned drolly.

“I'm serious,” Emma insisted, giving his shoulders a slight shake. “You must be cursed, or something, but it's been three years since you teamed up with Cora, and you turned your life around, and we were..we were...”

Something about her first few words resonated with him. You. Cursed. Of course. Cora had cursed Swan with false memories somehow, or put her under a spell, so she would not interfere in their missions. It was brilliant, if dishonorable.

Not to mention, it perfectly explained Swan's ardent greeting.

A stab of something akin to regret or longing assaulted him with the realization that it had taken magic to make her respond to him with anything other than her unbreakable taciturnity. “If you wish to inform me of anything, tell me where I can find Rumpelstiltskin,” Killian told her, perhaps more sharply than he'd meant to. “Ending him is the only thing that matters.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Emma ran her hands up and down his arms in a comforting manner, while telling him, “I know it feels that way right now. I get it. You told me what happened, what Gold – Rumpelstiltskin—did. But I promise, you don’t have to deal with that pain alone. You have people who care about you, who will want to help-”

Chuckling lowly, Killian interrupted. “I believe our definition of 'help' in this case is probably quite different. I do appreciate the gesture, though.” Resting an elbow on the crib's rail, he waved his hand towards the baby. “Despite our differences, I have no quarrel with you, Swan, so long as you stay out of my way. Take your little treasure, here, and go. She's quite lovely, and seems to have excellent acumen in regards to watercraft, but this is no place for her.” With any luck, Killian could lure the crocodile right to the deck of this ship, and end him in the exact same spot the creature had murdered Milah.

Instantly interpreting his true meaning, Emma insisted, “You won't find him, Killian. As hard as it might be to believe, it really has been three years. Rumpelstiltskin is...Well, a lot has happened. His actions caught up with him, and justice has been served.”

“He's dead?” Killian blurted, overjoyed and then righteously furious. How dare fate take away the one thing, possibly the last thing he desired in life? Even if the gods were seeking to punish him, surely they could see the morality of his mission.

Swan paused, and he could see her heavily weighing her answer. “I didn’t say that.” She sighed. “After I lost you, I told myself that if I somehow ever had a second chance, I'd never lie to you again. And I won't. No, he's not dead. But he won't be able to hurt anyone, ever again. He's as good as gone.”

Killian's head cleared, and suddenly calm, he asked, “Indeed?”, eyes wandering across the cabin. In his fury at the prospect of not being able to personally complete his vengeance against Rumpelstiltskin, he had rashly forgotten that Swan was operating under a delusion. Whatever story Cora had manipulated Swan's mind into accepting had apparently been quite complex. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of a person not having control of their own memories, but there was little he could do about it now.

“I promise,” she assured him earnestly, taking his hand in her own. It drew his attention back to her, and he saw she was beaming at him again, shadows dancing across her cheeks. And that was when he spotted it.

His brother's ring, hanging from a chain upon her neck.

“Where did you get that?” Killian hissed, pulling his hand from hers and grasping the jewelry. It took everything in him to not yank the chain from her neck.

“From you. You gave it to me,” Emma protested, clasping his wrist. “I haven't taken it off since I last saw you.”

“And now I am talking it back.” He released the ring, but his tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, slowly, she lifted the chain up from under her shining hair, then over her head. She ran her thumb softly over the single gem before placing it in his palm.

Closing his fingers over it, Killian stepped back. “Now, leave. I have wasted enough time already.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Emma shook her head. “What do you mean? I just got you back, there's no way I'm leaving -”

The reminder of Liam currently held in his hand caused three hundred years of impatience to rear its head, and he snarled, “Actually, you are. Get out.”

Measuring him with a look, Emma finally made a small noise of defeat and leaned over to scoop up the baby. Then, with her free arm, she extended her fingers towards a lantern sitting on the room's table—the source of the illumination he'd noticed when first entering the quarters. Inside the lantern was a bright ball of light, which quickly dimmed and became an ordinary flame.

Incredulous, Killian looked back to Swan, who lowered her hand. True, he had seen her power when she'd confronted Cora at the lake, but this level of finesse was something unexpected.

“Don't worry,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t leave you in the dark. No matter what, I'm glad you're here.”

With that, she left.

When he was sure she was gone, Killian found his cutlass, and with its help, dismantled the crib and chair, tossing the pieces in the harbor. There was no room or need for such ridiculous frippery on his ship; especially since Swan would not be welcome back on board. A hasty search through the drawers of his wardrobe revealed infant clothing that quickly followed its unlucky counterparts to the bottom of the ocean.

However, when came across a pair of tiny socks, hardly longer than his thumb, something in him couldn’t quite dispose of them.

At last taking leave of the Jolly Roger, Killian walked along the docks, following the strange, smooth black streets towards town. If Cora would not reveal herself to him, perhaps it was time to acquire new allies.

Because despite Swan's insistence on the matter, his foe was still out there, somewhere.

Chapter Text

                                                            One Year Ago

                                                         The Underworld

“ Hook, I will find you. I will always find you.”

How long ago had Emma said that? An hour? A week?

Time didn’t seem to mean much as they floated along in the undertaker guy's boat. It was just endless fog, a weird sulfuric smell, and the grim faces and set mouths of the people surrounding her.

An elbow nudged her, and she turned her head to see Henry giving her a small but encouraging smile. Her wonderful boy.

Had she made the right choice, letting him come with them? Probably not, but his threat of following them anyway was an even worse alternative. “How are you holding up, Kid?” Emma inquired.

“Well...it stinks,” Henry replied, scrunching his nose like a little boy. “I mean that literally. I hope the whole underworld doesn’t smell like this, or it's gonna be a lo-ong rescue.”

In spite of the situation, Emma almost laughed. Henry was at a point where he could be serious and mature in one moment, and then complain about a smell like a five-year-old the next. Catching sight of the hooded figure guiding their ferry, she instantly sobered. “We aren't going to be there long enough to worry about it,” she told her son firmly.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be here at all,” Gold commented, his voice its usual mixture of mildness and scorn as he gazed into the mist.

Emma smothered the hate she felt at the mere sight of him, and stared at the bottom of the boat instead. Maybe she'd forget how much she wanted to punch Gold in the face if she could concentrate on the gentle motion of the river-

Whoa.

Bad idea.

Unexpected dizziness spun Emma's world around, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from heaving, leaning her head between her knees.

“Seasick, Miss Swan?” Gold asked with exaggerated sympathy.

She really had to find out what spell Regina had used in Camelot to shut up Zelena. “I'm fine,” she ground out.

“Are you sure, Emma?” Mary Margret piped up, all motherly concern.

“Really. I'll be all right.” After taking a deep breath, Emma lifted her head again. “Just – I’m just tired,” she explained, and she was. The last couple of months had been exhausting – emotionally, physically, and mentally.

Mary Margret frowned and seemed about to pursue the issue, but Gold forestalled her by announcing, “It seems we've arrived.”

Looming out of the mist was a dark shape that solidified into a dock, peaceful and still. Lined by softly glowing lamps, it extended farther into the murk than she could see.

The boat pulled alongside the dock and stopped, but everybody in the vessel hesitated.

“Well, then, shall we?” Robin asked with strained heartiness, hopping athletically onto the pier and offering a hand to Regina. Regally, the queen took it, and followed the archer in a more delicate fashion.

Emma was next. Robin grasped her hand firmly and supported her as she stepped awkwardly over the gap between the ferry and the planks of wood. She was grateful to him, for she still felt woozy.

“Thanks,” she told him.

“It's quite all right.” Lowering his voice, Robin added, “Emma, I know we aren't as acquainted as we might be, and it's probably not my place, but – the others are right, you don’t seem entirely well. Perhaps -”

“Don't worry about me,” Emma muttered, though she was touched at Robin's concern, considering the things she'd done as the Dark One just days ago.

The others proceeded after her one by one, until they were all standing on the dock, huddled in an uncertain cluster.

“All right, you're the Savior, Emma,” she reminded herself, squaring her weary shoulders. “So lead.”

“Okay, guys,” she spoke into the silence. “Let's move.”

As they made their way from the dock, the landmarks around them became more and more familiar, until, upon arriving in the center of a town, the truth lie before them in the form of a broken clock tower.

Resting tiredly on its side in the middle of the street, like some enormous, dying beast, was Storybrooke's centerpiece, hands frozen on its face. People, or what looked like people, were milling about the area, seemingly going about their business and not paying a bit of attention to the newcomers. Emma watched a few of them, but recognized nobody.

“This is Storybrooke,” Mary Margret exclaimed. “Or, it looks like it. How? Why?”

Emma glanced over at her mother, considering her words. While Mary Margret was correct in that it could almost have passed for a mirror image of their home, an aura of unreality clung to the air. Emma couldn’t have put her finger on why that would be, but it pressed on her like a physical weight, distorting the sense of belonging she'd normally have in Storybrooke.

David stepped in to answer before Emma could. “Maybe we should ask someone?” he suggested in his usual lighthearted manner.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Gold snapped dismissively. “Questioning these souls will get us nowhere. They're nothing but powerless, trapped drones, serving the being in charge of this place.”

“And you know this because...?” Regina spoke up.

“Need I remind you again that I have already had the dubious pleasure of visiting this place? Temporarily, but it was not a trip I had planned on repeating,” the Dark One said condescendingly, looking pointedly at Emma.

Ignoring his little dig, she argued irritably, “Someone must know something.”

“Uhh...Guys?” Henry broke in, pointing.

Turning in the direction he was indicating, she stopped short when she saw a bearded man directly across the street, walking along the sidewalk with his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes glued to the pavement.

For a moment, Emma couldn’t find her voice. Then, still disbelieving, she called out, “Graham?”

                                                           Storybrooke

                                                           Present Day

Killian stalked along the strange, deserted road, vision gradually adjusting to the darkness as he traveled away from the ocean. Eventually, he came across a row of lamps, perched upon ridiculously tall poles, lining the street at intervals.

Soon, strange, tall structures surrounded him– merchants, if the products in the windows meant anything— but from them, nary a light shone. Odd; in the villages to which he was accustomed, most of the shops kept a lantern burning outside all hours of the night.

Killian saw no sign of his nemesis, but told himself that scouting the area was enough for him at the present. The area was so silent that he proceeded boldly down the middle of the street, confident that he was unseen.

At last, he came upon an establishment that showed signs of life. Light winked through the colorful, dirty windows, and music, or some horrid attempt at it, was audible to him, even though he was not in proximity of the doors.

The Rabbit Hole, announced a sign.

Grinning, he sauntered his way towards the entrance. He may have been out of his element in this world, but he could recognize a tavern in any realm. Taverns meant information; information which could be acquired from those who would hopefully be too intoxicated to recall his face the next morning.

Of course, Swan knew he was in Storybrooke, so that proverbial cat was out of the bag, but the fewer people who were aware of his presence, the better.

Edging his way through the doors, Killian surveyed the room before him.

Strange, bright lights seemed to be the décor theme; they were adorning each wall, in a variety of colors, sizes and shapes. Some even had letters, signifying things he couldn’t understand. Budweiser. Bud Light. Michelob. Were these this realm's version of 'wanted' posters, perhaps? Or the crests of the land's monarchs?

The noise, visuals, and sheer stimuli of the place almost made him miss a movement to his right, at the bar. The man behind the counter, a thin, pale, reed-like sort of fellow, was bumbling around, reaching for drinking glasses, while mumbling to himself.

“Stupid remodel...Glasses are above me now, not behind...”

Killian was just about to step forward and coerce or threaten the barkeep, whichever was necessary, when he heard another voice, this one familiar, call above the music.

“I was part of his crew for three hundred years, and let me tell you, there was never another pirate like the Cap'n. He...”

Craning his neck, Killian searched until he spotted Smee at a table, holding a stein aloft, cheeks ruddy with drink as he continued to regale the rest of Killian's crew, who were clustered around the first mate.

What were they bloody doing here? When he'd heard the rumor of the Dark One's maid being held captive by Queen Regina, he'd left them all behind for the advancement of his mission, and from there...Well, he'd assumed they'd been in the Enchanted Forest, but they must have been caught up in the curse. This actually made things simpler for him; if they had information he could use, it was all the better. “All right, you useless lot. You've had twenty-eight years of cursed time to spend loafing. I say it's high time to get back to work.”

Heads turned in his direction, Smee dropped his stein with a crash, and Morgan jumped unsteadily to her feet.

“Captain!” she shouted, clutching the edge of the table for support.

Killian had encountered Morgan in a tavern in the Enchanted Forest years ago, during one of his 'errands' for Pan. Only sixteen at the time, she had been working as a server, and one who was clearly ill-treated by her employer, at that. After a few discreet inquiries, Killian had learned that the girl's ignoble elder brother and ward had arranged for her to work there, barely feeding her while keeping all of her earnings for himself.

Naturally, given his own private history, this had not sat well with Killian, and he'd confronted the brother, suggesting politely that he return Morgan's wages to her, or Killian would return them himself. The brother had foolishly drawn a sword and challenged Killian to try the latter, and had ended with a cutlass through his gut for his efforts.

Upon returning to Morgan with a year of her wages and the expectation of a slap to his face for the death of her only living relative, he'd found instead a young woman ecstatic at the prospect of freedom, at which point he'd offered her a choice. She could stay in her current employment, or he could give her passage to any kingdom in the realm. Morgan had requested instead to stay indefinitely on the Jolly Rodger as part of the crew.

Naturally, Killian had been unsure of this idea, as the girl had no sailing experience and no natural savagery to her temperament. So it was with some trepidation that he'd brought her on board, having unequivocally warned the rest of the pirates beforehand that if they lay a hand on her, they would be keelhauled.

He had been delighted to find that Morgan took to the ship like a bird to the sky, and what she lacked in physical ferocity she made up in skill. She developed a sharp tongue and learned to drink the rest of the crew under the table, which was why he was so surprised to see her visibly inebriated now.

The only disadvantage was that she idolized him to a degree, in her mind making him out to be the brother she wished her own had been. This not only made him uncomfortable, it was also not the sort of interaction a Captain wanted with a member of his crew, and his repeated attempts at discouragement only met with stubbornness. In the end, he decided that a loyal crew member was a valuable crew member, and allowed her to stay.

“You have something to say, Skylights?” Killian demanded of her.

“Cap'n,” Bill Jukes stammered, “you're alive?”

“Of course I’m bloody alive, why wouldn’t I be?”

“ 'Cause you're dead!” This helpful exposition came courtesy of Cecco.

It seemed his crew were of accord with Swan's belief. “I am not dead, thank you. Smee, get these filthy curs on their feet. We have work to do. It's time for a crocodile to die.”

Hope and eagerness entered Smee's eyes as he rounded the table and came to stand before his Captain. “And then go back to pirating, sir?”

Scoffing, Killian replied, “What do you mean, 'go back'?”

“Well, sir, it's just that...” Smee looked back to the crew for support. “You changed a lot before you died, and -”

Killian did not wish to hear more cursed nonsense. “Never mind that. Are you with me or not?”

Smee straightened. “Always, Captain. But...Nobody knows where the Dark One is. Emma did something with him, but -”

“Emma?” Killian cut in with a grin. “Then I suppose I will just have to ask her, won't I?”

“Uh...” Smee pulled off his cap and awkwardly rubbed at his head. “I'm not so sure that's a good idea.”

“And why not?”

“It's just, sir, around her you're not – You don't...”

“Out with it!”

Whispering now, Smee finished, “I've noticed you don’t always use your best judgment around her. Sir.”

“I don't know what that means,” growled Killian, “and I don't care for an explanation right now. So tell me, then, as somebody who has lived in this town for quite some time, what is the quickest way to the Dark One?”

Morgan, who had been dancing around the fringes of their conversation since Killian had mentioned Rumpelstiltskin, cleared her throat. “I'm not sure of anyone who could tell us where he is, Captain, but I do know someone who might help us.”

“And who is that?”

Lifting her small chin, Morgan said proudly, “We can meet her here tomorrow night. She works here. Her name back in our realm was Madam Mim.”

I just wanted to say to all my readers, thank you SO MUCH for all of your support. I had the bare bones idea for this fic all the way back during the midseason hiatus of season 5, but I held back because there are so many better writers on this site and figured maybe only one or two people would look at my story. S o your kind comments and follows mean so much, you can't imagine.

Just a couple of other messages: I will be without computer access next week, so it could be a while until the next update, but I am not going away!

Also, I considered writing the underworld flashbacks in italics, but I have also heard that a lot of readers don't care for that. What would your guys' preference be?

Chapter Text

                                                                Storybrooke

                                                                      3AM

Emma rapped impatiently on Belle's door with one arm, while corralling a squirmy Ariadne with the other, having not bothered with the baby sling in her rush to the house.

“Come on, Belle, open up,” Emma muttered impatiently, even while her heart was still racing with joy, her mind still in disbelief. Her love was back, he was here.

Ariadne began to sound her chuffing, snorting pre-cry noise, and Emma guiltily kissed the black head of hair. “I know, I'm sorry. Mom's been dragging you all over town tonight, and you just want to sleep, don’t you?”

A light flashed on inside the house, and a few moments later, Belle opened the door, pulling a robe closed over her nightdress and frowning at the sheriff. “Emma, what is going on? It's the middle of the night -” Gaze flicking down to the baby, she continued, “and Ariadne is going to catch a cold. You'd better come in.”

When they'd settled down in the living room, Emma with Ariadne in a rocking chair, and the librarian fidgeting on the sofa, Belle said, “Is everything all right?”

Hesitating, Emma contemplated the other woman. She and Belle had become much closer in the last year, going through the stages of their pregnancies at nearly the same time – Belle had been about a month and a half behind her – and she really wanted to be direct with her friend, because if there was anything Belle deserved in her challenging life, it was honesty. Seeing no way to put her concerns delicately, Emma bluntly announced, “Your life might be in danger. I think I should stay here tonight. Or I can send Graham or my dad, if you'd rather.”

“My life...” Belle breathed deeply, pale eyes startled and wide, fingers gripping the sofa's armrest. Face bare of makeup, she seemed very young, and frightened. “Why? Did something happen with Rumple? Because even with what he's done, I know he wouldn't hurt me, Emma.”

“No, it's not that.”

Ariadne sneezed, then burbled drowsily, pulling away Emma's attention.

“Does she need anything?” Belle asked, instantly concerned. “I have petroleum jelly, and infant mucus reducer. Or is it gas? I have Mylicon.”

Emma looked down at her child, so she could hide the look of empathy crossing her face. Belle had stockpiled practically every baby medication known to man, but none of them would be able to help cure her own infant, poor little Reynard. “She's okay. Really. But Belle, I'm here because Killian is alive.” She had to press her lips shut, so she didn’t keep repeating it. Alive, alive, alive, Killian's alive.

Face brightening with the first genuine happiness Emma had seen from her in months, Belle gasped, clasping her hands together in delight. “Emma, that is so wonderful! How? Where is he? I need to welcome him home -”

“It's not as simple as that,” Emma said quickly, shoulders slumping. “For some reason, he thinks he's still working with Cora, and that this is the first time he's been to Storybrooke. I don’t know if he knew who you were at that point, but since we both know he won't be able to find Gold-”

“There's a chance he could come after me.” Chewing on her lip, Belle locked eyes with Emma's. “He did remember me back then, as the girl who worked for Rumpelstiltskin. Before the first curse I got a ...uh, visit from him in the Queen's palace.” She shook her head. “But I'm not worried about me, Emma.” Belle's eyes drifted to the ceiling, where, above them, was the nursery containing her baby. “You know Killian better than anyone. Do you think, if he knew Rumple was the father, that he would be vindictive enough to go after Reynard?

Emma's first impulse was to protest, to say no, of course not, without any hesitation. But she forced herself to look at the situation objectively. A child's life was possibly at risk. After thinking it through, she finally shook her head. “No. Even at his worst, I don't think he'd hurt a baby. He was good to Ne- Baelfire, and he knew he was Gold's kid.”

“And Milah's,” Belle pointed out.

“Hey, I’m not arguing against caution. That's why I'm here,” Emma pointed out.

Giving a little sigh, Belle looked at her sadly. “Why aren't you with him? He needs to know about you and Adi -”

Barking out a pained laugh, Emma said, “I think a baby is just a little more than he's prepared to handle right now.”

Rising from the sofa, Belle came over and crouched in front of the rocking chair, placing her hands on Emma's arms and looking up into her face. “Emma, listen. You've been given something amazing. A second chance. Don't waste it. If there was even a possibility I thought I could have that with Rumple again...”

Surprised that her friend had drawn such a conclusion, Emma leaned back in the chair. “Belle – I haven’t given up. Not even close. Tomorrow I’m going to see Regina and Mother Superior and see if they can whip up a memory potion,” she said with more certainty than she felt. Then, truly confident, she added, “If that doesn’t work, then I'll just start over and help him remember. I don’t care if it takes years.”

Belle smiled a bit ruefully, standing and squeezing Emma's shoulder. “I know you'll get him back. And I want to help, especially after what he did for me in the Underworld. But Emma, just be prepared. I know the real Killian is in there, but back then...He was terribly angry, and very sad.” Distantly, she added, “I don’t think I will ever forget the time I went to get Neal's scarf from his ship. He spoke like a man entirely without hope.”

“Then I’ll bring him some,” Emma said resolutely, holding Ariadne a little bit closer. “I'll bring him home.”

Pensive now, Belle wandered over to one of the four massive bookcases crowding the living room, looking over her research tomes. “Emma, do you think it's the same Killian who was trapped in the Underworld, or is it possible he really did just leave Cora's side – maybe because of some time travel spell? We both know they're possible.”

Pondering on it, Emma shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, according to Doc Brown, wouldn’t that create some sort of time paradox? Wouldn’t it wipe away the things Killian affected over the last few years? Ariadne would fade from existence or something, right?”

“I thought time paradoxes were what happened when you interacted with another version of yourself,” Belle teased mischievously, and Emma was pleased that on this occasion, her Back to the Future reference were not lost. “But yeah, you have a point.” Crossing to another bookcase, Belle selected a book and returned to Emma's side. “Well, if we're going to be up the rest of the night, I'm going to need to stay awake somehow. Can I read to Ariadne?”

Glancing at the cover of the book – freakin' The Scarlet Letter; oh yeah, Ariadne was sure to comprehend that – Emma passed up the baby to Belle with a nod.

On the positive side, Emma had never read the book before, and maybe listening to it would distract her from wanting to jump up and tear the town apart in a search for a man who did not even want her.

                                                                        One year ago

                                                                      The Underworld

“Graham?”

Her call made the man stop in his tracks and lift his head in astonishment , swiveling around to find the origin.

Emma rushed across the street, the rest of the group following more sedately. When she arrived in plain sight of his stunned view, she couldn’t help but reach out and grasp his shoulders. They felt solid, warm, and real, and despite the fact that she hadn't really expected to just Casper right through him, it was still surprising. “ Graham, it's really you! I can't believe you're here. ” In the midst of a place that was so eerily wrong , seeing a familiar face brought more relief than she would have thought possible. “I'm so glad to see you.”

“ Emma?” he stammered, and his face shifted through range of emotions: D oubt , joy, then horror and fear as he realized the implications of her presence. Pressing a hand along the side of her face, he wildly searched her eyes , as if looking for another explanation. “No, no, you can't be here. That means -”

“ I'm alive,” she assured him. “ I am. The others are, too. We came here looking for someone. Do you think you could help?” Even as she asked, her fingers tightened on his shoulders, almost afraid to let him go. In that moment, she vowed to herself that Graham would also be coming back to Storybrooke with them. How, she did not know or care, but she was determined that he would rejoin the land of the living .

Graham seemed about to answer her question, but something over her shoulder caught his eye, and suddenly he was tearing himself loose from Emma's grip. Whirling around her, he planted himself between her and the street, his arm thrown out defensively. “Emma, get back. She's here.”

Confused, Emma looked past him. She could see no threat, only the rest of her group shuffling up to them and observing Graham's outburst with the same bewilderment she felt.

“So, somebody finally had enough of you, Witch?” Graham spat, and while Emma couldn’t see his expression, the set of his shoulders was tense and angry. “Can't say you didn’t deserve it.”

It became clear whom Graham was addressing as Regina lifted a manicured eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Excuse me?”

“Graham, hey, Graham, it's all right,” Emma spoke consolingly, moving to his side and tentatively patting his arm. “She's changed. She's on our side now.”

After a couple of breaths, her words seemed to register with him and, incredulous, Graham faced her, hurt and indignation warring on his face. “Emma, she killed me!”

His shout seemed to echo as an ugly silence descended on the street. Snow, whose face had been split in a wide, greeting grin, cut off her salutations by clamping her mouth firmly shut, and reaching over and grabbing David's hand. Henry winced and looked down at his feet. Gold was smiling faintly, as though Graham's words were a truth he already knew, and had just been waiting for confirmation.

“N-No, no!” Emma began to explain to Graham, and yet -

And yet, the pieces were fitting into place. “You had a heart problem...” She trailed off dubiously.

“Well, when a heart gets crushed, I suppose that could be considered a problem,” Graham snarled, gaze fixed pointedly on Regina. “Isn’t that right, your Majesty?”

Regina shifted her weight and crossed her arms, and in that reaction Emma read the truth.

She wanted to hear it, though. Even if they had an unspoken truce, or an understanding of sorts between one another, she wanted to hear Regina admit this.“Did you kill him, Regina?” Emma demanded tightly, and all the fatigue, pain and trauma of the last few hours were behind the force of her words. She thought she might throw up, right there on the sidewalk. How could she have not realized? Henry had even told her, for goodness sake -

“Those were different circumstances; I’m not that person anymore!” Regina said crisply, never one to take an accusation lying down.

Scoffing, Graham rejoined, “Oh, really? Do you have any idea the number of people I’ve met down here who are your victims?” His voice was vicious enough to tear flesh, and his hands were twitching with barely inhibited wrath. For a moment, it made Emma wonder if he was going to try to attack the Queen with his bare hands.

Tension crackled through the gathering: electric, dangerous, and dividing. “Say, now-” Robin began, stepping forward, and David abruptly let go of Snow's fingers and lifted his hands for attention.

“Okay, all right! Everybody just take a breath,” he ordered, and in her father's voice, Emma found her own clarity.

Stepping into Graham's line of sight once more, she made sure he was listening to her before she began speaking. “What happened to you was wrong. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to see that reversed.”

In his eyes, a flicker of hope burst to life and then died. “I don't know if it's possible, Emma,” he said quietly. “Nobody gets out of here.”

An image of Killian moved to the forefront of her mind, and Emma again fought to compose herself. “Graham, I need your help. Please.”

Chapter Text

                                                                  Storybrooke

                                                                Present day

Emma's eyes felt gritty from a lack of sleep, and Belle's book hadn't really done much to energize her. Grim and unrelenting, it began with the main character being released from a prison, in which she'd given birth. Of all topics.

Suffice it to say, the story had drawn Emma's overwrought nerves even tighter, providing no pleasant distraction from her tumultuous, conflicting thoughts. In fact, it fed her insatiable impatience, and several times she caught herself anxiously bouncing her foot against the floor, or craning her neck to peer out the window into the tranquil stillness of the night .

Not that she meant to insult the heroine of the book, Hester Prynne . For all she knew, the woman was real and living in some unknown realm.

Ariadne had long since fallen into slumber, small head pillowed comfortably in the crook of Belle's arm while the woman read. As time wore on, the light of dawn slowly diffused over the pair as the sun rose in the sky.

“ 'Yet these thoughts affected Hester Prynne less with hope than apprehension',” Belle recited, her voice still clear and strong after several hours. “ 'She knew that her deed had been evil; she could have no faith, therefore, that its result would be good. Day after day she looked fearfully into the child's expanding nature, ever dreading to detect some dark and wild peculiarity that should correspond with the guiltiness to which she owed her being'.” *

The sudden chime of a cell phone interrupted Belle, who immediately set aside the book and waved in encouragement to Emma as she recognized the sheriff's ring tone.

Pulled from sleep by the unexpected noise, Ariadne began to wail unhappily, fists waving in indignation. Belle got to her feet and carried the child from the room, rocking her gently and humming reassuringly along the way.

Meanwhile Emma, hastening to answer the phone before it also woke Reynard, didn't read the listed caller identification. Fingers quivering, she fumbled around on the screen a few times before she was able to answer the cell. Maybe Killian remembered; maybe he was calling her, trying to find her this very second...

“ Yes, hello?” Emma was nearly shouting when she finally connected to the call.

The voice that answered did not belong to Killian, and though her heart sank, her attention became laser focused when she absorbed what the caller was telling her .

“ Emma, hello, it's Granny. I have good news: Your pirate is here! Alive, at my diner! Would you believe it? Better come quick, though, child; there's somethin' wrong with him. He's with his crew, and he's acting oddly. Like he doesn’t know me.”

Emma was on her feet after the third sentence, reaching for the keys in her pocket. “Thanks. Okay, I’ll be right there. Try to keep him there, all right? Take a while bringing his food, or whatever. Anything, please.”

At this point, Emma didn’t care how desperate she sounded. Without his memories, and with his old crew egging him on, there was no telling what he'd try. What if they convinced him to set sail? The coast guard could decimate that beautiful old ship in minutes. Killian didn’t understand that.

If she could contact Regina on her way out of Belle's house, perhaps the Queen could put together a memory potion in time to meet her at the diner.

A thought suffused her, drawing her up short as she was exiting the living room. Just hours from now, she could have him back. They would sit and have lunch together, and she could talk to him about Ariadne and everything he'd missed. They-

Shaking herself out of the pleasant daydream, Emma exhaled as reality set in again. “Slow down there. Don't get too ahead of yourself; you'll just be disappointed.”

Flicking through the contacts on her phone, she called into the hallway for her friend. “Belle? Carrying Ariadne against her shoulder, the diminutive woman emerged from one of the rooms off of the hallway, and walked towards her. “Who was it, Emma?” she asked curiously.

“Granny. Killian's at her diner. I better go get him before..” Before I lose him again. “Before he starts causing havoc.” At last finding Regina's name sandwiched into her contacts, Emma lifted a thumb to make the call.

Reaching out, Belle placed a hand atop Emma's, halting her. “It's okay that you want to see him, you know. I understand.”

Offering an awkward little nod, Emma mumbled, “Umm, right. Thanks.” As much as she had grown to like Belle, there were still things she wasn't comfortable doing, and talking about her feelings would probably always be one of them.

Mashing her thumb down on the phone, she was soon speaking to Regina.

There was a long silence after Emma described Killian's reappearance and made her request. When at last Regina spoke, there were heavy undertones of doubt coloring her voice. “Emma, it's not that I don’t believe you – and I genuinely hope, for your sake, it's true—but...How is this possible? I was there when we left the Underworld. If you'll recall, Hades was very convinced that Hook wouldn’t be leaving. I just don't want you to get your hopes too high, because it's possible this is not what it seems. I've been there with Daniel, and believe me, it hurts.”

Belle, who couldn't hear Regina's end of the conversation, was observing Emma's reactions with interest. She wrinkled her forehead worriedly when Emma grimaced, and then rubbed Ariadne's back as if it could somehow translate to comforting the baby's mother.

“I know, Regina. But I have to try,” Emma said finally. Regina's warning was nothing she hadn’t already told herself.

As if she had expected this outcome, Regina made a conceding noise. “Zelena would probably be better at it than me. I'll get her right on it, but it could take a few minutes. I'll text you when it's ready to go, and meet you at the diner.”

“Thanks,” Emma told her, and before Regina could hang up, she quickly added, “How is Henry?”

“Henry? He's perfectly fine. Still sleeping, and come to think of it, it's about time for lazy teenagers to get up before they miss the bus to school. Thank you for the reminder.” After a pause, Regina pursued a new thought. “I don't want to tell him about Hook being back yet, Emma. In case...”

Though the unpleasant idea still rankled, the sentiment behind it did not. “I know, he'd be crushed,” Emma agreed. “I understand.”

After saying obligatory goodbyes, they ended the call, and Emma extended her arms to take Ariadne. “Well, Killian didn’t show up here all night, so I think you'll be okay. Thanks for reading to us, Belle. We'd better get going.”

Holding the baby a bit closer, Belle protested, “Oh, but Emma, the poor thing's so tired! Won't you let her stay here, to sleep? Please? I have an extra bassinet.”

Swinging her keys on the loop around her finger, Emma offered a helpless shrug. “I really can't. She'll need to eat soon, and anything frozen I have is back at my house. She won't drink formula.”

Disappointment momentarily crossed Belle's face, before lighting up with an idea. “Just nurse her here, then. If they're making a memory potion, it'll take a while, won't it? You'll have time.”

Initially opening her mouth to argue, Emma gradually switched to a smile. “I guess. Fine, you win.”

Affecting a pompous expression, Belle imperiously declared, “Of course I do,” and they each chuckled as Ariadne was passed between them.

“Mind if I go back to the living room?” Emma asked.

“Go ahead,” chirped Belle. “I'm just going to go make some oatmeal for breakfast.”

Returning to the living room, Emma shifted Ariadne to one arm and made another call, this time to her father.

A month before Ariadne was born, David had agreed to split Sheriff duties with Emma indefinitely. Each now worked at the station part time, with Graham filling in the gaps as deputy. Today was supposed to be David and Graham's day on duty, and Emma's day off.

Her father picked up on the third ring, and she quickly caught him up to speed on the situation. David seemed pleasantly surprised but not dismissive of her news, and told her that he and Graham would come to Granny's as backup.

After the phone call, Emma turned her attention to feeding her daughter.

Once settled, however, Ariadne refused to cooperate. She wouldn’t latch on, choosing instead to be distracted by everything and anything possible, from the clanging of dishes in the kitchen to the subsequent weak cries of Reynard coming from the floor above, to Belle's footsteps padding up the stairs to attend to him.

Leisurely, Ariadne turned her head away from Emma's body and surveyed the room, very much with the air of a baby who had all the time in the world at her disposal.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Emma muttered, “This really isn’t the best day to start a hunger strike, Kid.” She knew Ariadne had to be ravenous; the last time she nursed was before Killian showed up on the Jolly Roger late last night.

In response, Ariadne stuck her tongue out of her mouth and experimentally began chewing on it with her harmless gums. Once that game was over, she began a detailed investigation of her tiny fingers; though, to Emma's extensive relief, when she was finished with that she finally relented and began to nurse.

Normally, while nursing, Ariadne liked to reach up and twine her hand in the chain holding Killian’s ring; but of course it wasn’t there, and the frustrated baby had to settle for hair pulling instead, to the chagrin and pain of Emma’s scalp.

After several more flurried minutes, Ariadne was left sleeping in Belle's spare bassinet and Emma was in the bug, driving towards Granny's, fluttering anticipation in her belly.

“You will really enjoy the eggs here, sir,” Smee declared, scratching at his beard with a yawn. “There's some kind of sauce they put on them that makes them absolutely incomparable.”

“If they ever arrive,” Killian muttered, staring over at the counter at the bustling old lady behind it. Completely unperturbed, she glared right back at him over the tops of her glasses, and it almost made him smile.

Jukes, at an adjacent table, grunted and rubbed at his eyes. Of all the crew, he seemed to be suffering the worst after last night's celebration.

The diner was not crowded, which should have been advantageous to their service, but as time crept by Killian couldn't help wonder at the reason for the delay.

When the woman breezed by his booth for the fourth time, with yet another refill for a different customer, Killian knew it was deliberate. “Pardon?” he summoned her as politely as possible (because it was, after all, good form to give a lady the benefit of the doubt). “Is there any trouble with our meals?”

Huffing with the weight of several years of insulted dignity, the woman tapped her finger against the handle of the carafe she was carrying. “You'll sit there and wait, young man. The food will get here when it gets here. Just because I am glad you're back doesn’t mean you can give me grief.”

The old woman's utter lack of fear in regards to him was almost insulting, if not downright embarrassing. However, he needed to keep a low profile until he met this 'Madam Mim'. If his crew was not misinformed, she would be instrumental in finding the Crocodile.

Forcing a tight smile, Killian made no further comment, and the owner of the establishment shuffled off to the kitchen.

As he was raising a mug of coffee to his lips – this realm seemingly had easy access to the precious beans – the front door opened, and in walked Swan, all beauty and determination.

Incomprehensibly, his heart began firing in wild staccato bursts, and he cast his gaze to the table until calm and rationality was restored to him.

What in all the realms had prompted such a fervent response in him?

To be sure, he thought her exquisite in feature and had found her endearingly charming in a contentious, challenging sort of way, taking great delight in flustering her back on the beanstalk; but beyond that, she was nothing more than another irrelevant interaction he'd had on the way to completing his goal.

None of those facts, though, could explain the unbalanced feeling that ambushed him now.

“Killian!” he heard her cry happily as she spotted him.

“Sorry, Ma'am,” Smee interposed himself between Emma and his Captain, clearly nervous but also a bit smug. “Captain doesn't want to be bothered.”

“Uh, how about we ask 'the Captain' what he thinks?” Emma contested, and Killian grinned into his mug as he took another sip of coffee. Erroneous behavior aside, she was still as spirited and capricious as a ship on her maiden voyage.

“Well, Killian?” she pursued, a telling note of disquiet in her voice.

Nonchalantly placing his mug on the table, Killian lifted his eyebrows and glanced in her direction. “What is it, love?” he asked, putting as much disinterest into his voice as he could.

“Can we talk? Just us?”

And coming from her, the question was so unexpectedly sweet and sincere and innocent that it made his nerves dance all over again. Feeling a devilish smirk sliding across his face, he inexplicably began taunting her, without even having intended to do so. “I’m certain that we can do anything you’d like, if it’s ‘just us’.”

Ignoring the baiting innuendo, she took his statement at face value and said simply, “Thank you,” while slipping past Smee. Thwarted, the first mate grunted, perturbed, and shuffled to another table.

Easing herself into the booth to face Killian, Emma was clearly ready to begin a prepared speech, placing her hands flat on the table, drawing a deep breath, and pulling her shoulders back.

But when her lashes flicked up so that her gaze could rest upon him, her face perceptibly softened, and she gave a noiseless sigh of contentment, reaching over with one hand to take his wrist and rub it gently with her thumb.

The open affection she offered was disconcerting, to say the least. Oh, he was used to people loathing him, fearing him. More rarely, there could even be admiration.

But this...

“She’s cursed,” he reminded himself.

“What is it you wish, Swan?” he queried indolently. “Other than to ogle my admittedly attractive countenance?”

Cheeks tinting, Emma pulled her hand away. “Sorry. It’s just, I see you and I still can’t...” Leaving the thought unfinished, she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small vial. “Killian, this is for you.” She set it on the table with a dull clunk.

Regarding it suspiciously, he rubbed at his beard. “A gift. How thoughtful. What is it?”

“It’s a memory potion.” Bolstered, her speech progressed with increasing speed, as though she was afraid he would interrupt her. “You just have to drink it, and you’ll remember everything. At least, probably up until you died, anyway, Regina and Zelena weren’t sure -”’

“No!” shouted various members of his crew, nearly falling out of their chairs in their rush to swarm the booth.

“Stop!” he ordered, holding up his hand. “I promised the Lady Swan a talk, and she shall have it. Sit down.” Chastised, the group fell back, though their displeasure was evident.

Nodding to Emma, who seemed both grateful and relieved, he asked wryly, “Regina concocted this brew? Regina, the Evil Queen?”

Now uncertain as to the turn their conversation had taken, Emma stammered, “N..Not...entirely. She had help. But it is safe. You have my word.”

Thoughtfully, Killian picked up the vial. It was lighter than it looked, as though its contents were nearly weightless.

“Don’t do it, Captain,” Morgan begged, leaning toward him from her table. “It’s a trick, to trap you.”

“Maybe he should,” Starkey murmured. “He’d want to know -”

“Shut your mouth,” Jukes roared at his crew mate, enraged. “Swan is lying, sir. Don’t listen to her. You’re exactly the Captain you’re supposed to be. That thing will change you.”

“Did I ask for any of your opinions?” Killian snarled; and, though reluctant, they could tell he was entirely serious. Backing away, they again quieted.

Bringing his focus to Emma once more, Killian stated, “This will change everything I know, if it doesn’t poison me. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” she told him.

“And why would I want such a thing? I have no desire to alter my reality.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Repellent as it might be.”

“It will restore your reality. The one where you’re happy.”

“Better a harsh truth than living a lie,” Killian contended flatly. “Is that all you desired? If so, you may leave.”

Gleefully, Jukes shambled over to the booth and grasped Emma’s arm. “I’ll remove her, Captain.”

“Wait!” Emma cried. “Killian, please. Do you trust me?”

With a soft chuckle, he said, “Well, the last thing I remember from the Enchanted Forest was you knocking me over the head with a compass. Before that, you were trying to skewer me with a sword, and before that, you chained me to a wall, at the mercy of a giant. So forgive me if I am less than inclined to say yes.”

Shaking Jukes’ hand off of her, Emma persevered, changing her tactics. “You must know something isn’t right. That things aren’t quite adding up here. Your crew, they were surprised to see you alive, weren’t they?”

Impressed by both her undaunted determination and logic, Killian paused. There were things in this land that didn’t quite make sense. Cora’s absence. Swan’s previously unmentioned daughter, and the fact that she’d had time to move all of those infant accessories onto his ship before he’d arrived. Her sudden grasp of magic she clearly hadn’t known she had. His crew’s behavior.

“I suspect if I don’t drink it now, I won’t hear the end of it anytime soon, will I?” he remarked rhetorically.

“All I’m asking is that you give it a chance. It’s just a memory potion, not poison. If it doesn’t work, what could it hurt? Nothing would change.”

Shrugging, Killian popped the top off of the vial. “But if nothing happens, then I must insist that you drop the matter. Agreed?”

Unfettered joy filled her face. “Agreed.”

Killian raised the vial.

* excerpt from The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Chapter Text

“Just remember, this may not work.” Tilting his head back, Killian quickly swallowed the liquid, and prepared himself for a revelation of...Well, what, exactly, he wasn’t sure.

The mystical contents of the vial tasted of nothing at all; it was even more plain than water, if that was possible. While he waited for the effects to take place, Swan was searching his face frenetically for some reaction.

Delaying, he tried to give the potion a fair chance, but there was nothing. No memories, no change, just the disquieting realization that Emma was going to be crestfallen.

“Good,” he forced the thought. “Maybe when I tell her, she’ll finally let this alone.”

And yet, seeing her practically emanating zealous expectancy, he was having a curiously difficult time summoning the words to inform her of the truth.

“It worked for me right away, when you found me in New York,” she was saying, betraying her excitement as her fingers tapped rhythmically on the tabletop. “Remember that? Is anything coming back?”

“I did try to warn you, Darling,” he thought wearily. “Nothing. As I quite suspected.”

“What?” Snatching the empty vial from his hand, Emma squeezed the container tightly, glaring at it in bewildered accusation. “I don’t get it. How could it not work? It’s worked before!”

The expression she wore was that of utter devastation, a kind which belonged exclusively to a lost girl afraid of losing yet again, and part of him couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. “Swan. Swan!” Killian interjected, gripping her elbow before she could slam the bottle against the table. “Don’t do that.”

She breathed shakily, and momentarily he was terrified she might cry. But she composed herself admirably, tough lass that she was. “There must have been a mistake. I’ll have Zelena try again-”

His charitable feelings and empathy only extended so far.“No, you won’t. We had an accord.”

Body slumping, as though a great weight had been cast upon her, Emma only whispered forlornly, “It was supposed to work.”

Morgan began to snicker.

Killian gently released Emma’s elbow, and she swiped at her face with the back of her hand. For the first time, he noticed the shadows and redness bordering her eyes, telltale signs of fatigue and emotional wear.

Leaning close, so that only she could hear him, he murmured, “You’ll be all right, Swan. You’re free, now. I know a bit about chasing people, and you don’t want to spend your life that way. No more sleepless nights.”

“But it’s not that easy, is it?” she uttered back, just as quietly. Before he could answer, she slipped stiffly out of the booth and began to walk towards the exit, Morgan’s mocking laughter at her back.

With a clamoring of the bells on the front door, a man burst into the diner, shouting for Swan. “Emma! Did it work?”

The stranger had the irritatingly wholesome presence of a man of honor, earnest and noble as he charged across the floor, clearly on a quest.

“Dad! I told you all all to wait outside,” Emma protested, holding up her hand.

Ahh. So this was Emma’s father, the Prince. A trite title for an even more trite looking man.

“Sorry Emma, but I got a sheriff’s call that can’t wait. Is Hook back to normal?” The Prince thew an inquisitive glance at Killian over her shoulder.

Emma lowered her voice for a private talk with her father. Killian strained to hear them as his crew returned to their drinks and resumed their usual idiotic bickering, but he could only hear fragments of their conversation.

“Didn’t....anything,” Emma said. “I’ll have...else. Are Regina and Zelena...”

“Yeah.” The man gestured at Killian. “Maybe...talk – him. I could...”

“ -other...later. If I...Now what...call?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, the Prince seemed to be assuring her of something. “Don’t...I’ve...can stay. Just...at...docks. Someone ...Jolly.”

Immediately alert and tense at the mention of his ship, Killian abandoned his booth and hastened to the pair, prepared to command an explanation.

“Hook!” the Prince exclaimed, and marked Killian’s approach with great cheer by taking his arm and drawing him in to slap his back in camaraderie. “Welcome back. Better late than never, I guess. Good to see you.”

And here Killian had thought that the strangest thing he’d experience in the Land Without Magic would be Emma’s embrace. Disengaging, Killian sidled away from the prince. This entire town was mad. He wanted no association with men of nobility, and normally, he would have challenged the prince’s gregariousness further, but the pressing matter of the Jolly Roger took precedence.

“What’s this about my ship?” he demanded belligerently, tapping at the hilt of his sword in a blatantly cautionary manner. Prince or not, if this man had in any way damaged the Jolly Roger, reparations would be due. Painful reparations.

“Oh.” The Prince shrugged, as if the threat was of very little consequence. “Didn’t mean to worry you. I just got a call from the docks; apparently some guy is creeping around the area, and he seems to be specifically interested in the Jolly. Nothing Graham and I can’t handle.”

“Not without me, you won’t,” Killian warned. “If you think I would leave the defense of my ship to a sniveling royal like yourself-”

“Hey!” David protested.

“Guys, let’s not argue. Let’s just go check it out,” Emma broke in, forestalling an argument.

“But it’s your day off,” her father pointed out. “Stay here with Hook instead, see if you can get him to remember.”

“Like he’d stay,” Emma retorted, and Killian thought that despite the sarcasm, he could sense some fondness in the words as well.

By this time, the Jolly’s crew had shuffled over, like a herd of curious bovine. “Where ’r’ we goin’, Cap’t?” Cecco wondered.

“None of you are going anywhere,” Emma informed him, folding her arms. “I don’t need a bunch of hungover pirates running amok at the docks, and falling off piers and stuff.”

Each of the crew began raising their voices in objection, and Emma, losing civility, took a step forward and shouted, “I swear, if you so much as think of following us to the docks, I will throw each and every one of you in jail for interfering in police procedure. Understand?”

They looked to Killian for support, and he merely gestured towards the seating area. “You heard the Lady. Back to your overpriced dining.”

Although he tried not to show it, Killian was incredibly frustrated. To be closer than ever to his goal, and deterred by such petty things as meals and ship thieves.

Tomorrow, for all he knew, he mightn’t even be alive to claim his ship, depending on how the confrontation with the crocodile ended.

But today – oh, today, he would fight for her.

“You’re riding with me,” Emma informed Killian as the trio began crossing the dining patio outside of Granny’s. She then tensed, expecting more arguing, but she was ready to stand her ground.

“If you say so, Love.” He deferred to her instruction, displaying one of his more familiar tendencies by following her lead as they moved past seats and tables, with David at their heels.

Graham, seated at a table close to the entrance, jumped to his feet and joined the procession. “David filled me in on the phone call about the ship,” he told Emma, adjusting the walkie talkie on his belt, and then pushing his hair back. “I’ll go with him and meet you there.”

Regina, who had been waiting with Zelena at one of the tables at the opposite end of the patio, gestured to Emma, attempting to draw her attention. “Did it work?”

“Didn’t seem to,” Emma replied grimly, without slowing. “We’ll have to worry about it later, though. There’s some kind of problem at the docks. I’ll try to catch up with you afterward.”

As she breezed past the women, Emma could hear Zelena complaining to her sister. “That’s ridiculous. My potion was perfect; if it failed, it’s the fault of that stupid pirate, not my handiwork.”

Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Emma began to cross the road to where her vehicle was parked. She didn’t stop, not even when her phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

Henry.

Mom? Is Hook really back?!!?

Eyes half on her phone, half on the street, Emma frowned, then replied. Seems so, kid. How did you hear that?

There was an interval, then...

Ran into Grandma on the way to my school. She was on the way to her elementary class. Grandpa told her, and she told me

“Ugh, Mom,” Emma muttered. So much for discretion. Ok. It’s complicated, though. I will explain more when you come home from school. Put the phone away, or I will call your teacher and have him confiscate it

At last reaching the bug, Emma pocketed her phone and threw open the driver’s door. Angling her body in preparation to slip onto the seat, she hip-checked Killian who, in his confusion, had been standing too closely. “I’m sorry, babe.” She straightened and gave his arm a squeeze. “I forgot you didn’t know.” Pointing to the other side of car, she explained, “You get in on that side, okay? Pull the handle to open it. It’s just like a carriage. First time you rode in it, you got a little queasy. Just don’t look at the scenery if that happens. We’re not going far.”

“Let me guess, staring at the horizon helps?”

Unable to resist, she lifted onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “That’s right, sailor.”

He didn’t react, either positively or negatively, and Emma almost regretted the action.

Past Killian, half a block down the street, David and Graham were on either side of the sheriff’s car, and Emma observed Graham peering rather despondently in her direction. When the deputy noticed she’d seen him, he quickly ducked his head under the roof of the vehicle, and climbed inside of it. From the edges of her vision, she had seen Killian discreetly following her line of sight, which meant he probably hadn’t missed any of the interaction.

Not allowing herself to dwell on the matter, she took her seat and jammed the key in the ignition. Soon, Killian had found his way to the passenger seat and was sitting next to her.

“Ready?” she asked him, trying to put light enthusiasm into the question.

“I just want to get to my ship, if you please,” he returned neutrally.

Chapter Text

Emma had been driving for about two minutes before Killian finally broke the awkward silence. “You may as well ask me, Swan.”

Strange, how she had never found it difficult to talk to him before, despite being from different worlds. And now...”Ask you what?”

“Whatever it is that’s making you practically burst at the seams.”

Well, his intuition in regarding her sure hadn’t disappeared. “I, well...I guess I am kinda curious about your theory as to why I remember things the way I remember them. Even if you think I’m wrong, there must be a reason I believe what I do, right?”

Chuckling flatly Killian said, “Honestly, the only thing I can hazard is that Cora put the town under some sort of spell or curse, to keep the lot of you out of our way. Or at least, out of her way; I’ve found no benefit, only extra interference.”

Emma winced; she couldn’t help it. He hadn’t singled her out, but the inference still hurt – not as badly as when they’d been Dark Ones, and he’d called her a ‘distraction’ - but it stung in its own way.

“Not that there haven’t been enjoyable parts,” he rectified quickly. “Such as our moment on my ship. Too bad the real Emma would have me hanged, drawn, and quartered for it. Which is why it shall not be repeated.”

Emma was both surprised and encouraged by the fact that he was admitting he had enjoyed kissing her. It meant he still felt that connection, that there was still hope. It meant he was distant, but not unreachable.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she commented, the corner of her mouth in a smile. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn for what?” Killian echoed, and she saw him look away from the window and down at the bug’s floor-mat. Her poor carsick pirate.

“To ask a question. I got to have the first one.”

Facing her, he teased, “Well, when did you become so open and sharing?” and unless she was mistaken, she thought she spotted a gleam of roguery in his eye.

Pleased that she’d diverted his attention from brooding over his ship, Emma flirted back. “Is that your question?”

“Certainly not. What I wonder is, has your father always been so...earnest?”

Returning her attention to the road, Emma laughed outright. “His name is David, and you can go on and on about how dull and boring you think he seems, but the truth is, you once told me you thought he’s a good man, and how you wished you could be more like him. You and he were friends.”

“And now you’re just having fun with me.”

“Nope. All true. Now it’s my turn to ask a question.” Rubbing her thumbs on the wheel, Emma thought, but Killian broke in.

“No, your answer was nonsensical. I believe I should get another question.” Musing, he took a turn to solemnity. “Why do my crew hate you?”

The road before them was suddenly very interesting to her. “You swore you wouldn’t lie to him.” Swallowing her pain, Emma said bluntly, “They’re angry with me, because they think I killed you.”

“I see.” He didn’t sound angry; but then, he clearly didn’t think any of it was true, either. “And did you?”

“Yeah.” She felt her throat tightening. Even though he was here and alive, reliving that night made her sick to her stomach. “So I can’t say that I blame them.”

“Well, that would put a damper on things between us, wouldn’t it?” he grinned, seeming to find the confession hilarious. “Chin up, Swan. If anybody successfully dispatched me, I would be honored if it was by you. And you get another question.”

Emma’s mood lifted immensely. Though he wasn’t in love with her, Killian still found any possible way to praise her, bizarre though the compliment might be. “All right.” She knew the likely outcome of asking, but at this point there was no reason not to try. “Will you set aside the Rumpelstiltskin stuff for tonight, and come over to my house to have dinner with me?”

The offer obviously bemused him, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Now that is a most tantalizing offer, especially now that my breakfast prospects have been so sadly extinguished. However,” he began picking at his hook, “I am loathe to tell you that I already have plans.”

“Oh, well...” Emma exhaled. “Patient, just be patient. Remember how patient he was with you all those months?” Rallying, she suggested, “How about lunch, then? It’ll be nice and peaceful. I mean, the baby will be there, but she’s a really good baby. She hardly ever cries. She -”

Emma trailed off when she realized he probably didn’t care.

“I have no doubt that she is a paragon among babies, and I thank you, but as I said, I am previously committed” Slyly, he added, “I am meeting with a different lovely woman later, and I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Mouth falling open, Emma nearly ran a stop sign, hitting the brakes too hard and throwing them both forward. Was he serious? Or was he just trying to deflect her invitation? The possibility of the former sent a blistering razor blade of agonized jealousy and hurt through her chest.

Rearranging his seat-belt, Killian huffed, much in the same way Ariadne did seconds before she was about to go purple with rage. “I thought you claimed these restraints were for safety. Am I to be strangled?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she countered, moving the car onward. Thankfully, there had been no other vehicles around for her to hit.

Emma was debating whether or not to ask him the identity of the woman when the road narrowed, and the docks loomed before them. “Here we are,” she announced, parking the bug. “Try not to stab the guy before I question him, ‘kay? All I ask.”

“I am not promising anything,” Killian answered, and they left the vehicle, waiting until David and Graham arrived before they approached the Jolly Roger.

To Killian’s relief, the Jolly appeared intact and well, sitting proudly in the glittering water, just as he’d left her. How magnificent was she, a queen among the peasants that composed the other boats at berth.

As they drew nearer, Killian realized he could see movement on deck; somebody was there, walking about the helm.

“You see that?” Swan’s father – David – pointed.

“Yeah,” concurred his companion, the bearded fellow in the brown jacket; the same hapless creature, Killian noted, who had been not-so-covertly pining for Swan over the top of the roofs of the carriages. He had been halfway hoping the fellow wouldn’t actually accompany them.

“I’ll go first,” David said, hastening his pace. “You three can cover me if there’s trouble.”

“No, I will,” contested Emma’s admirer. “In this town, you never know what might be up there, and the th – two of you have babies.”

“Oh, Dad, Graham, stop,” Emma said impatiently. “I have magic.”

While they were arguing, Killian resisted the urge to shake his head, and instead took the opportunity to slip by them and head for the gangplank himself. She was his ship, after all, and he wasn’t going to let her be molested while the others fought to be the most self-sacrificing.

He was almost to the deck when he heard Emma hiss, “Killian – wait!” and the others rushed to join him.

And with that, his subtle approach was ruined.

Emma looked at him pointedly. “Together,” she insisted, drawing out the word.

As one, they stepped onto the deck and scanned the area for the figure they’d seen. Then, from behind the mast, sauntered a tall figure in red.

Killian would have recognized that embellished, foppish scarlet jacket anywhere. “Blackbeard,” he growled, drawing his cutlass. “Remove your putrid carcass from my ship, or you shall do so in pieces.”

“Your ship?” Undaunted, Blackbeard continued to swagger their way, teeth gleaming. “I think we both know that’s no longer true.”

Scoffing, Killian responded, “I always knew you were a simpleton, but I never figured you were delusional. Last chance; step away.”

“Just because the Jolly is currently in your possession, it does not give you the right to renege on your deal!” Blackbeard bellowed, hair flying as he stepped forward.

“Oh, boy,” Emma muttered, drawing her firearm. “Blackbeard? Of course, why not?”

Killian’s blood was racing, eager and spoiling for a duel, but the conviction in the pirate’s words made him ask, “What about a deal? I would never bargain with the likes of you.”

“Oh, but you did.” Blackbeard gloated. “Don’t pretend like you’ve forgotten. You gave the ship to me in exchange for a magic bean.”

“Of all the ridiculous stories to invent -”

“Uh, Killian...” Swan intervened, coming between them. “The thing is...”

Blackbeard gave her a once-over, gaze fastening on her badge. As if sensing an opening, the man immediately swept off his hat and gave her a theatrical bow. “Ahh, the authorities. Lady, thank you for allowing me to explain,” he pontificated with elaborate courtesy. Killian felt certain she wouldn’t be persuaded by it. “You see, the Queen of Arendelle and I had something of a...misunderstanding about a year ago. She took my ship, and imprisoned me. I have been recently...released, you see, and discovered my ship had ended up here. Won’t you kindly explain to Mr. Hook that I merely wish to reclaim it, and return to my own land?”

“That’s Captain!” Enraged, Killian faced Emma. “Swan, permit me to eradicate this lying pest.”

“I am not a liar!” Blackbeard sneered contemptuously. “You were desperate to come to this land; I remember it well. Any person in their right mind would realize that magic beans are still accessible, although rare. But there is only one ship made of enchanted wood. She’s worth ten beans, you fool; you don’t even deserve her.”

Killian lunged past Emma, no longer willing to hold back. Blackbeard instinctively swerved out of his way, drawing his own sword.

Pivoting, Killian managed to carry his momentum back in the opposite direction, swinging his cutlass down in a slash. At the beginning of the motion, he became aware that Swan had moved, and if he successfully delivered the strike to its intended target, he would injure her first. Only by the grace of his hundreds of years of experience was he able to shift the blade in time. He missed Blackbeard by millimeters.

Swan didn’t seem to recognize his good intentions. “Hey!” she yelped, leaping backward, thankfully out of the circle of battle.

Seeming to realize how close he’d been to being gutted, Blackbeard took a moment to recoup while Killian was getting his footing, and they squared off.

Posturing, Blackbeard faked an attack, but Killian saw right through it and went for a direct barrage of jabs and thrusts, each quicker than the last.

Blackbeard deflected each successfully, but the energy expended by doing so cost him the ability to mount his own offense. Killian continuously backed him across the deck, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Stop! Break it up!” Killian distantly heard the fear in Emma’s voice, but it meant nothing compared to his concentration on his foe. “Dad, Graham, we need to do something!”

Locked in combat, Killian kept his feet moving, never relenting in his attack. They circled the deck again, kicking over buckets and ropes in their deadly dance. Beads of sweat were forming and falling on Killian’s neck, and he could feel himself tiring.

Blackbeard, just as weary, gave one futile effort at an offense, surging forward, sword flat and even like a jousting lance. In one fluid movement, Killian deflected it downward so the tip stabbed into the deck, then lowered his shoulder into Blackbeard’s stomach and flipped him over his back.

The other pirate landed with a painful sounding crack, groaned, and lie still.

Readjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword, Killian unbent his posture and turned, ready to finish the irritant once and for all.

Three sets of footsteps thudded across the deck.

“Whoa, whoa, Hook, don’t,” David cried excitably, frantically waving his hands. “You can’t kill him.”

Blackbeard’s lip curled in resignation as Killian’s blade hovered near his face. “And why ever not? He is a ship thief. As Captain of the Jolly Roger, I have every right to defend her.”

“And you did,” Emma pointed out, pale of cheek, as though the fight had fatigued her as well as the participants. “He’s obviously not going to be able to steal it now. But you can’t just execute him.”

“Then we’ll agree to disagree,” Killian replied amiably, and brought his shoulder back to deliver the final blow. Blackbeard closed his eyes.

Without warning, Killian was hampered as a pair of arms closed around him, dragging him away from his mark. Killian’s mind worked wildly as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Then it came to him. Of course; while Swan and David had distracted him, the man in the brown jacket had taken the opportunity to seize and disarm him.

Before Killian had the chance to throw an elbow backwards, the man had wrested the cutlass from him, then twisted the hand behind Killian’s back, snapping something around his wrist. It must have been a shackle, though it felt very thin.

Killian struggled, trying to get leverage to attack with his hook, but the fight had drained more from him than he’d realized. Still, he was able to propel the man backwards. Closer and closer to the starboard side of the ship they moved, as he aimed to send the fellow overboard.

The Prince then jumped into the fray, grabbing Killian’s hooked arm and helping to clamp the other shackle just above the brace. Both of the men held Killian fast, and he looked to Swan, purposing to argue or charm his way out of the situation.

Swan, though, was in the middle of cuffing Blackbeard, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she had to sweep his hair out of the way to bring his arms into the proper position. “All right, stand up,” she ordered him. “We are – all of us – going to the station to get this sorted out.”

Chapter Text

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“This isn’t where you lived in Storybrooke,” Regina observed, taking in her surroundings as the group filed into Graham’s studio apartment.

“Well, forgive me,” the huntsman replied sarcastically. “Feel free to take it up with the guy in charge of realty down here. It’s no worse than the place you set up for me.”

Hoping to calm him, Emma brushed her hand lightly over his shoulder. In fact, though, she shared Regina’s doubts.

Graham’s quarters were sleek, austere, and cramped. In the time she had known him, he had seemed to prefer the outdoors, spaces as open as his heart, and this modern, cold apartment didn’t fit him at all.

“Realtor?” Emma questioned, “Who’s that, Graham?”

Placing his hands on his hips, Graham scuffed a boot on the rug beneath his feet and sighed. “The guy who runs this place. Hades.”

Mary Margaret placed a hand over her mouth, as if the magnitude of what they were doing was finally settling over her. The sound of a clock ticking on the wall bled through the otherwise silent apartment.

“It’ll be fine, Mom,” Emma attempted to assuage her worry. “Let’s let Graham finish explaining. We don’t even know all the details yet.”

Standing off to the side, Rumpelstiltskin grimaced, running his finger along a wall and flicking away imaginary dust. “He speaks the truth, Miss Swan. This is the domain of the god of the dead; if you insisted on coming here, you really should have been more prepared.”

“Then do you have anything helpful to contribute?” Emma bit out acridly. “Because I am all ears.”

“Of course,” Gold continued, “That is, if you wish to turn back...”

Without a pause, Emma stepped toe to toe with the Dark One, and he soon had his back against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere,” she informed him evenly, though ice frosted every word.

She was about to say more, but her hands were trembling, and the corners of her eyes were watering. “What is wrong with me?” She had no idea where the emotions were coming from, and couldn’t even pinpoint what they were.

Head tilting and swiveling like a serpent’s, Gold regarded her acutely, cunningly. “Be careful, Miss Swan. You need to be at your sharpest here, and it seems to me like it is more than the boat ride that’s affecting you.”

“Don’t patronize me, Gold,” Emma warned, and in that moment, it seemed as though it was just her and the Dark One in that room, with only their veiled messages, intimidation tactics, and hatred.

“Don’t threaten me.”

Breaking free from her paralysis, Mary Margaret appeared at Emma’s side, encircling her with an arm. “Leave my daughter alone,” she said crisply. “We’re working together, and that’s that. So get with the program.”

Both proud of her mother and impressed, Emma leaned lightly and gratefully into the embrace.

Gold, not nearly as moved, merely dipped one shoulder and slithered away. “Then let us consult an expert about it, shall we?” he asked rhetorically, nodding to Graham.

Calm and rationality returning, Emma noticed Henry standing near Graham, face troubled, though he was obviously trying to hide it. Immediately, she felt guilty.

The single thing she had wanted for her boy when he was born was for him to have his best chance; and yet in the last few years, he’d seen, heard and done things no child should have to. The fact that his mother and grandfather were at each other’s throats could only be compounding his stress. “Sorry, Kid. You okay?”

“Fine, Mom. Are you?” Henry tried to smile.

“Come here, Henry,” Regina invited, waving him over to herself and Robin. “Emma needs to talk to Graham.”

Emma noticed Graham’s jaw working as he struggled to avoid looking at his killer. “Regina?” she spoke up. “Can you wait outside with Robin and Henry please?”

“But, Mom, I want to-”

“I think that would be for the best,” Mary Margaret diplomatically cut Henry off, using that empathetic sixth sense she seemed to have for people and situations. “We’ve kind of invaded poor Graham’s home. I’ll go wait with you three! We’ll give them some breathing room, then we can get caught up afterward.”

Padding to the front door and opening it, Mary Margaret ushered out the three in question, then nodded conspiratorially at David and Emma before following, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Once they were gone, Graham visibly relaxed, exhaling and shrugging off his jacket before tossing it onto the back of a couch. “Well, have a seat, everyone. Emma, tell me what it is you need, and I will do what I can to help.”

David took a chair over in the kitchenette, while Gold elected to stand where he was. Emma and Graham sat together on the small couch. “Graham, about Regina, I didn’t – I didn’t know, and I am so sorry. I -”

“Emma, don’t.” Graham asserted. “The only reason you would have willingly come to this place is over a life or death matter. Literally. I don’t want you or Henry here any longer than you have to be, so please, tell me what you need so that you can leave.”

His selflessness and kindness only angered Emma, for it served to remind her that he hadn’t deserved this, and if she just hadn’t pushed Regina back then, maybe...

Not even sure where to begin, Emma stuttered. “I’m -I’m...” Graham, however, was listening without judgment or restlessness, and she found she was able to continue. “I’m here because I’m looking for someone. He probably...he probably hasn’t been here long, and I don’t even know where to start looking.”

“I have some ideas,” Graham replied. “Tell me more.”

Present Day

Storybrooke

Tugging at his shackles, Killian threw his shoulder into the shell of the carriage, irate, but of course it did nothing for him. The rear seat of Swan’s vessel was not nearly so spacious as the front, and he felt like a fish in a net.

“Relax Killian, please,” Emma entreated from her position at the wheel.

“How can I relax, Swan, when you’ve arrested me, and plan to give my ship to Blackbeard? I was only protecting that which belongs to me.”

Peeking at him around the side of her seat, Emma shook her head, which made her lovely hair glimmer tantalizingly. “You’re way off the mark. We only separated you guys so you could clear your heads. So chill, okay?” She stressed these words by facing forward, again obstructing his view of her. “Your ship isn’t going anywhere soon. I put a protection barrier around it, to keep Blackbeard from boarding. Nobody can take it. To tell you the truth, I’m more interested in how he got here from Arendelle.”

Appreciation rippled pleasantly though his chest as she explained her defense of the Jolly Roger. “Then why the theatrics? Why must you subject me to this?”

“So that Blackbeard didn’t leave the ship looking like swiss cheese, that’s why. When you get your memories back, you’d regret killing him.”

The words paused his endeavors at removing the cuffs. Not for the first time, he recognized that she really, truly believed what she was saying. She believed in something inside him that had been snuffed out hundreds of years ago – if it had even been there to begin with. Her misconception was both overwhelming and -

Frightening.

“You must have me mistaken with someone else, love,” he enlightened her. “I’m not a man with regrets.”

“If you say so.” Swan guided her vessel to a clattering halt on the side of the street. “Listen; you’re going to have to sit tight for a minute. I’m picking up my baby, then we’ll go to the station and meet David, Graham, and your pal Bluebeard.”

“Blackbeard.”

“I know.” In the small looking glass hanging from the roof above Emma, Killian saw the reflection of her nose crinkle again, this time with wit. “I was trying to be funny. Guess this means that when we were together, you must have been faking all those laughs at my awesome puns, huh?”

Clever, courageous, beautiful, powerful, and self-deprecating for the sake of her own personal amusement, as well. It was little wonder he was finding her so continuously appealing.

Exiting the carriage, Emma walked to its other side and opened the opposite door. “Anyway,” she said as she folded down the passenger seat, “be prepared. Ariadne has to sit in the backseat, because it’s not safe for her to be in the front. She’ll be next to you, but it’s not like you have to do anything.”

He had been about to comment on the brilliance of chairs that could stow away in such a fashion, but then his mind processed what he’d heard. Uncertainly, Killian eyed the unshapely contraption beside him. So that’s what the ungainly bucket was for – Emma’s infant. It surely didn’t appear comfortable, especially considering it was designed for something so small and fragile. What if it caused the child to cry? Surely Swan wouldn’t expect him to interact with the baby. Nervously, he stammered, “But, Swan -”

Unlatching the bucket from its base, Emma muttered, “Be right back!” and hurried away in the direction of a house, carrier in hand.

The carriage door, which she’d left ajar, beckoned invitingly, and Killian grunted as he struggled against his restraints. Emma had claimed that she was only taking him to the brig to keep him away from Blackbeard, but how long did she mean to detain him?

If he hadn’t been shackled, he could have easily disentangled himself from the strap attached to the seat, but as it was, he was stuck.

Since there was nothing to be done about his predicament at present, Killian outlined his plans in his mind.

Swan, if she kept to her word, would hopefully release him before the conclusion of the afternoon. If her information about the Jolly Roger was true – and he believed it was – he could meet Madam Mim knowing the ship would be secure from any endeavors of thievery by Blackbeard.

Killian was growing progressively curious as to who this “Madam Mim’ might be. Although he’d baited Swan about their meeting to ward off her invitations to dine (and admittedly relished her panicked reactions) he genuinely had no idea what was in store for him. All he’d been able to gather from his ill-informed crew—who, in describing Mim, had used the terms ‘fairy’ and ‘witch’ interchangeably—was that the person was female, and that she would be able and most likely willing to help him track down the crocodile.

Naturally, this was the only fact pertinent to him; Mim could be a devourer of souls for all he cared, as long as she could deliver what his crew predicted.

He started as Swan, having returned without preamble, half-crawled into the space beside him with the baby contraption and settled it back onto its mount. Killian observed, intrigued, as she struggled with another restraint, trying to latch the entire device safely to the seat. Even if he were inclined to assist, the shackles would have prevented any action on his part.

“Having some trouble, darling?”

“I got it.” With a soft click, the baby was secured, and Killian was in the position of caretaker for the duration of the excursion to the sheriff’s outpost. “Just stay calm, Killian,” Emma instructed, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m pretty sure babies can smell fear. We’ll be to the station before you know it.”

Soon, they were traveling swiftly along the road.

Stoically, he stared at the back of Emma’s seat, not wanting to even peer in the infant’s direction, somehow more anxious than he would be even at the prospect of Medusa’s stone-cold gaze.

But a sudden, quiet nose drew his notice, and despite his reluctance, he was involuntarily checking on the child.

A strange-looking disc was covering her mouth; but despite that, she was smiling at him, cheeks lifting tiredly as one dewy eye closed, and the other fought to stay open. “Gmmph,” she repeated her utterance, muffled by the disc.

“Swan, what is on her mouth?” Killian asked. If Emma’s daughter were in danger and he failed to notify her, he would likely suffer repercussions.

“It’s a pacifier. Or binky, plug, whatever. She sucks on the other end of it, and it calms her down.”

“I see,” he commented, though he didn’t, really. The girl was still struggling to stay awake, and he caught flashes of blue as she blinked rapidly, grinning even wider. The hair on one side of her head was sticking straight up, creating a decidedly untidy appearance.

Clearly she favored her grandmother, the princess Snow White, with that inky hair. The black locks comprised the thickest head of hair he’d ever seen on a baby. Her skin, smooth and blemish free, carried clear indicators of vitality and health.

Perhaps, if he and Milah had ever...

But then, what did he know about babies? As far as he could recall, this was the closest he’d ever been to one. “Why is her hair on end?”

Emma tilted her head. “Heh. Little stinker was sleeping on her stomach. I don’t know how she got away with it while Belle, the queen of infant safety, was babysitting. I’ve never seen Ariadne roll from her back all the way to her tummy before.”

The significance of this ability eluded Killian. “Quite a mouthful of a name for such a wee one,” he pointed out, trying not to seem impatient. Belle. Why did that name resonate with him?

“You can call her Adi, if you want. Most people do. Roland – that’s Robin Hood’s little boy – couldn’t quite pronounce it when she was born. He called her Airy-Addy, and the second part stuck.”

Over the course of their conversation, Killian had been slowly, subtly working the brace off of his arm, and he was certain if he kept Emma distracted, he would soon be free. However, his next question contained true curiosity. “Why does she keep staring at me?”

Swan stopped the vessel as a crimson light shone through the clear shield in front of her. “Why? Well, she has a thing for bearded men, ’cause she sees Graham nearly every day at the station, and he has facial hair, just like you. He always makes a huge fuss over her, so whenever she sees a man with stubble, she automatically assumes they adore her and that she’ll get spoiled rotten. She’s a bit full of herself, but I guess it’s in the genes.” The light switched color from red to green, and then they were moving again.

“She thinks all that?” Killian asked doubtfully, again stealing a glance at the tiny inhabitant of the chair beside him.

“It sure seems like it. She gets flirty with August, too; he has the same look going. Babies are more aware than people give them credit for.”

Vexation plagued him as he briefly pondered just how many bearded men Swan had in her life.

With hardly a whisper of noise, Killian’s brace finally became loose and slid down his forearm, with the shackle following it.

At the same time, the baby spat out her pacifier, then scrunched her nose unhappily and began to whimper at her own misfortune.

There.

It was his perfect opportunity. He could escape. In one quick movement, if he just wanted to, he could pick up his hook and drive it into Swan’s neck, and she would not have enough time to summon her magic. She might even survive, were she able to locate help soon enough.

He didn’t want to. In fact, the idea was abhorrent enough that he almost wished he hadn’t conceived it.

“What’s the matter, Kid?” Swan, unaware of his conflicted, violent ideas, was immediately concerned with the fussy sounds her daughter was making. “We’re almost there. You’ll get to see Graham!”

“She’s divested herself of the pacifier, and appears to be regretting the choice,” Killian reported.

“For the love of—I hate it when she does that.” Blindly, Emma swung her arm into the rear seating area, flailing as she groped for the baby chair. “Is it on her left side? Her right? Or is it between her legs? Tell me she didn’t spit it on the floor.”

“Never mind; I have it, Swan.” The last thing he wanted to experience was another pointless delay. Delicately, so as to avoid the spittle, he retrieved the pacifier from the baby’s lap and pushed it back into her mouth. Scourge of the high seas, and he was playing parent to the infant of a relative stranger.

“Thanks,” Emma said as the mewls subsided, then abruptly turned her head with a frown. “Wait, how did you do that? You’re supposed to be cuffed.”

“I am a pirate,” he reminded her, and settled back for the remainder of the ride.

Chapter Text

Ariadne snuggled safely in her arms, Emma strolled through the parking lot of her workplace, Killian following resignedly. She had decided not to cuff him, knowing that if she tried, he’d merely pull another Houdini act and slip out of them again.

They passed one side of the building, and as always Emma winced when she saw the area on the exterior that boasted slightly darker bricks, which were set in a rectangular pattern. Repairs, of course; made after the workplace incident (David’s words) when Emma had interrogated Ingrid. (Oops?)

“I assume you mean to place me behind bars?” Killian’s voice brought her back to the situation at hand: the arrest of the pirates.

“Only very temporarily,” she promised him, slowing her pace so they could walk side by side. “Just long enough for me to figure out how to deal with Blackbeard.”

She noticed that with all the twisting he’d done while removing the cuffs, his vest had become askew. Though he’d since replaced the brace and hook, the vest still needed attention. Shifting Ariadne to her hip, she tugged at the hem of the fabric, straightening it. “There; you’re all dapper again. Can’t imagine letting you face Blackbeard while looking sloppy. Thank you for cooperating.”

No answer. Whatever his thoughts were, they were not with her. She wondered if the reason was simply because he was in Storybrooke, and thought himself closing in on Gold; after all, his behavior during the time he’d shot Belle had been vastly different than when he’d climbed the beanstalk with Emma.

Speaking of which...that was something he’d remember.

“Y’know, most women would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge, Killian,” she told him cheekily.

This earned her a surprised, askance glance and a glint of a smile, quickly suppressed. “Do you, indeed?” he retorted, devoid of any flirtatiousness.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek. “Is this what he felt like from Neverland all the way up until I asked him out on a date? Just wishing he could grab me and kiss the stubbornness right out of me? Because that’s what I am about ready to do at this point.”

“Mmmm. Yep.” Emma tried to sound beguiling, but she was so tired from last night’s vigil, the words instead came out sounding like she had congesting allergies. Totally sexy.

“Swan, what are genes?”

The sudden change of topic threw her for a loop. “Um. Jeans? They’re pants, made out of a heavy, durable fabric called denim. Everyone in this world wears ’em. I have a pair on right now.”

There was an extended pause as they rounded the building and closed in on the entrance. “Then I am going to assume you used an entirely different word to refer to your daughter back in the vessel, when you said ‘it’s in the genes’ - unless you were suggesting she is too big for her britches.”

Well, he always had been funniest when he wasn’t intending to be. “Ahh, that kind of gene,” she drawled, choking down her giggle at the adorably old-fashioned phrase. “A gene is...” They didn’t exactly have the time for her to crack open a textbook. “Yeah, long story short, it gives kids the traits their parents have. For example, like how my dad has blond hair, and so do I. Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular,” Killian circumvented shrewdly. “It was simply not a term with which I was familiar.” Though he was obviously trying to pretend the question was inconsequential, the way he cast an appraising look at Ariadne spoke volumes.

A cacophony of emotions screamed through Emma. Did he suspect? As he’d been inclined to point out before, he was pretty perceptive. She knew, too, that he was smart, and that if he wasn’t currently using nintey-nine percent of his concentration power on ending Gold, he’d have put things together within the first few minutes of his and Emma’s reunion.

Or maybe, it just wishful thinking on her part. After all, when he’d given Ariadne her pacifier, it had taken everything in her not to pull over the bug and start taking pictures with her phone. She desperately, selfishly wanted him to know.

Once inside the station, Emma took hold of Killian’s elbow to give at least the illusion of proper sheriff protocol. In her other arm, Ariadne yawned and nearly dropped her pacifier again. “You and me both, baby.”

She was relieved to find that Blackbeard was already situated in the left holding cell, with David at the computer and Graham waiting patiently by the mug shot area, pushing a last chunk of bear claw into his mouth. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I had to pick up the baby,” she apologized.

“Oh, no worries, sweetheart,” her dad responded affably. “I was just logging the indecent.”

“And I was just finishing breakfast,” Graham said after swallowing. He gave Emma a regretful smile. “Sorry I didn’t get you one.”

Breakfast. Why did that word make her feel like she’d forgotten something?”

“Well, that’s quite all right, old chap,” Killian quipped from her side. “I’ll let it go this time. Just try to remember in the future.” She didn’t have to see his face to know exactly which insolent look he was sending Graham’s way.

Stonily, Graham pointed to the right side cell. “Over there, buddy. We need you to wait inside, while we figure this out.”

“Breakfast,” Emma thought, steering her pirate over to the bars. “Breakfast. I need to – Oh, crap.”

Gra ham unlocked the cell and Killian walked in without a struggle.

“Lady, you’ve arrived!” Blackbeard, thinking his opportunity had come, sprang to his feet and wrapped his hands around the bars of his cell. “Will you please remind these gentlemen that I am an innocent in this matter? I was attacked on my own ship! Certainly I am not at fault for any of this!”

Emma ignored him, but Ariadne didn’t. Seeing another prospective admirer with facial hair, she squeaked excitedly and leaned towards the prison door.

“Ahh, a little one!” Blackbeard observed. “I have five myself, you know.”

Well, he was certainly projecting the harmless act as far as he could reach; she had to give him that. “Really. Five?” Interestingly, her lie detector was not acting up.

Killian snorted from the adjacent cell. “One for every port in the Enchanted Forest, no doubt.”

“I just want to get back to them,” Blackbeard explained mournfully, reaching out and giving Ariadne’s hand an awkward little pat. “They need their father.”

Disgusted, Emma backed away. No way was he touching her kid. Especially now that his last two statements had activated her lie detector, to the degree that it was almost flashing neon warning signs in her face. If this slime ball thought he could play on her emotions as a parent, he had another thing coming. “Well, if you cared that much, I doubt you would have left in the first place. How did you manage to get here, anyway?”

Lines on his face crinkled furiously as he realized she wasn’t about to be manipulated, then quickly smoothed out again. “If you must know, the bean I gave to Hook was not the only one in my possession. Now may I take my legally obtained ship and leave?”

Canting her head, Emma provided her best fake smile. “Since we’ve never met, I doubt you know this about me, Blackbeard, but I am friends with Queen Elsa.”

Uncertainty caused the good Captain to take a step back, and warily cross his arms.

“Such good friends, in fact,” Emma went on, “that Killian knew I would want to know how she was doing. So after he chatted with a mermaid, Ariel, who passed on some information about Elsa, he let me know that she said you had been using the Jolly Roger to terrorize people, and that Elsa took it away from you as a punishment. Now, I happen to trust Elsa’s judgment. So I can’t give the ship back, sorry. Luckily for you, though, Storybrooke is a place of second chances. I am going to talk with the other sheriff and the deputy, and we will see about releasing you. But you’re not getting the Jolly. I put a protection spell on it; you won’t even be able to step on the deck, so don’t bother trying.”

Defying her expectations of a tantrum, all of Blackbeard’s anger eased, transforming into something more like sly amusement. “I see, now. ‘Killian’ told you, eh?” His head bobbled from Emma, to Killian, to Ariadne and back again. “Now I understand why you were so desperate to get here, Hook. You wanted to reunite with your coquette. It seems you’ve since acquired an adorable little family. How pathetic.”

“Could you stop?” Emma snapped.

“May I kill him now, Swan?”

Dropping all pretext of innocence, Blackbeard hurled against the bars, eyes wild and mad with fury. “You have made a tremendous mistake, Lady,” he cried, pacing like an animal. “You will regret this, I swear to you. I will have that ship, do you hear me? And after I do, I will hunt you down and kill both you and the brat.”

David shoved his chair back as he stood, and Graham strode towards the cell with his hand on his taser, but it was Killian who spoke. “Good luck with that. Swan there could finish you in two moves.”

“Graham, stop,” Emma ordered as the deputy neared Blackbeard’s cell.

“He threatened Adi, Emma. That’s not okay,” Graham choked out, still holding the taser.

“No, it’s not, which is why I am revoking the offer of his release.”

This set Blackbeard off on a litany of curses, calling Emma every despicable name for a female in the book, until Killian reached through the bars of his cell and, using the curved side of his hook, hit him at the base of the skull.

Blackbeard groaned, toppled over, and lie still, out cold.

Everyone in the station stared at Killian. “You’re welcome,” he offered to nobody in particular.

Emma let out a breath, watching the unconscious figure to make sure he was not faking. “Dad, maybe you’d better check on him.”

“I’ll get around to it. Probably.”

Prying Ariadne’s fingers from her shirt, Emma knew she couldn’t delay her unremembered errand any longer. “Graham, can you take Ariadne? I realized that I forgot...” She exchanged glances with her father, who nodded in understanding. “I forgot to do something important. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

Putting the taser away, Graham offered his arms to take Ariadne. “Yeah, I’d be happy to. Is

it...”

“Yep.”

David plopped back into his chair at the desk. “It’ll take me a while to finish my report, anyway. Go ahead, Emma. We’ll all be here when you get back.”

The fool was fortunate Swan had granted mercy, because Killian certainly wouldn’t have offered any. What a mighty pirate, threatening infants.

Git.

Adi’s feathers seemed unruffled despite Blackbeard’s blustering and her mother’s unexpected departure. The baby was gazing fondly into the countenance of Swan’s associate, Graham, while he, just as smitten, hummed an odd tune while swaying in place.

Killian didn’t recognize the song, if it could even be classified as such. Curiously, it sounded almost like a birdsong.

The scene bespoke a contentedness and sense of peace that Killian could only wonder at.

David ceased staring at the box that had so entranced him and sighed. “I suppose I had better make sure Blackbeard is alive.” Leaving his seat, he walked to Blackbeard’s cell, jangling his keys. A few moments later, he was searching the man for a pulse. “Well, he’s breathing. Just to be sure, I’ll go outside to make a call to Whale, since I have his number right on my cell, and I can’t get good reception in here.”

The words meant nothing but a lot of gibberish to Killian, though he was able to pick up on the fact that the Price was also temporarily taking leave of the building.

Once he was gone, Graham took the seat Emma’s father had vacated, placing the baby on his lap as he began to smooth down her unruly locks. Ariadne babbled something and took hold of his finger.

Well, that appeared to be at least one mystery solved. “I take it you are her father, then?” Killian asked.

Perplexed, Graham ceased his ministrations and assessed Killian, as though he was searching him for a motive. “No. What makes you think that?”

“She seems very bonded to you,” Killian explained.

“We do get along,” Graham acknowledged, smiling dotingly down at the baby before resuming combing through her hair with his fingers. “I’ve been around her since the day she was born, and I am quite attached to her, but she isn’t my child.”

Was that a hint of wistfulness in the man’s voice? “Then who is her father?” The more knowledge of Swan he could compile, the better; for by now, he was well aware she would proceed in her attempts to thwart him. He certainly wasn’t curious for personal reasons, or because the infant’s ‘genes’ were a topic of his suspicion.

Not at all.

“That’s for Emma to say, not me.”

Deliberately obdurate, then. “Surely you could give me a hint. Is he involved in the their lives?”

“Doesn’t seemed inclined to want to be, as of yet. Look, you seemed like a decent guy in the Underworld, but so far I am not a fan of you in this realm. I’m trying, for Emma’s sake, but you’re acting like a bit of a loose cannon. I don’t want you putting Ariadne in harm’s way, and I don’t want you hurting Emma.”

Underworld? The more tales he heard, the more he became convinced that the entirety of Storybrooke’s population was insane. “There is only one person in this town whom I have the intention of hurting,” Killian clarified.

“But collateral damage wouldn’t bother you, I imagine.”

Killian massaged the bridge of his nose. “I give you my word that I will not cause any harm to come to the baby. Even my depravity has its limits.”

That seemed to satisfy the deputy. “Good.”

David returned, announcing that ‘Whale’ had instructed to ‘watch Blackbeard and call if he remained unresponsive’, and they lapsed into silence.

“Breakfast. At last. And here I’d thought you’d forgotten,” mocked the Dark One.

Emma shoved the brown sack, which contained a doughnut, through the dungeon bars. “Forget you, Gold? How could I? We’ve seen each other three times a day for the past year.” Her voice reverberated around the small, enclosed room.

“Well, that’s because you’ve kept me in this forsaken prison for the past year. But you are rather late.”

“Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you.” She fought a smile. She couldn't even be peeved at Gold today, because Killian was alive.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Making a face, Rumpelstiltskin extracted the pastry from the bag. “Not home cooking, I see,” he scorned. “Is this how you treat your prisoners, then?”

“I’ve been busy. Take it or leave it.” Amused, Emma added, “You’re immortal anyway. I wouldn’t have to feed you anything.”

“Touche.” Rumpelstiltskin dropped the doughnut back into the bag. “You enjoy it, Miss Swan.” He tossed the entire package back through the bars, and Emma levitated it before it hit the ground.

“You sure? It’s got jelly. That was Neal’s favorite.” Although Emma had grabbed a bear claw for herself when picking up Gold’s breakfast, she was still famished. If he wanted to give his breakfast to her, she wasn’t going to argue too much. She plucked the bag from the air with anticipation.

“I’m not interested in discussing Baelfire. I’d rather hear about my other son. How is he?” The worry in his expression moved her, if only a little. Unlike Blackbeard, Gold actually did care about his child, albeit in his own twisted way.

“He’s...okay, same as usual. I got a picture on my phone last night, if you’d like to see.”

Slapping a hand against the bars, Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth. “No, I know what his pictures look like! I want to see him in person, and I want to see Belle.”

“Well, that isn’t going to happen.”

“My son is dying and you stand there and keep me from him. Some savior you are. I could rescue him, if you would only let me -”

“Your son is dying because of you. Remember that? We’re trying to cure him for good, not just cut another deal that will come back and bite us, or worse, your kid, in the butt. I want to do this the right way, not the Rumpelstiltskin way.”

“Oh, what a lovely platitude. I am sure it would be lovely on Reynard’s tombstone.”

Emma, unknowingly crushing the bag in her hand, stopped when her fingers became sticky with jelly. “We have time. Remember, Hades can’t take him back before his tenth birthday. We’re working on it every day, with the help of the fairies, and every magic user in town. Even Zelena pitches in. We are going to figure it out.
“Oh, the fairies and the witch that loathes me. I feel so reassured.”

She wasn’t going to get dragged into a debate with him today. She just wasn’t. “Well, if that’s all, I am leaving. I’ll be back with your lunch later. Let me know if you change your mind about seeing the picture.”

Desperate, Gold tried another tactic. “Miss Swan, please – just let me see Belle and my son. I am begging you. Just once. All the videos and pictures in the world cannot compensate for the real thing. I realize you do not wish for anyone to know where my prison is, but you could just do a quick memory spell after the trip here, or use a blindfold. She wouldn’t have to know the location. I just...”

“I’ve already offered her that, actually.” Emma shouldn’t have felt bad for telling him the truth, but in a way she did. Maybe he would have felt better if he thought Emma was the reason for Belle’s avoidance, but she wasn’t going to lie, either. “Belle doesn’t want to see you. Or she does, but that’s exactly why she refuses. She doesn’t want to give you the chance to talk her into listening to you.”

Gold blinked a few times, as if he could not accept what she was telling him. “Tell her I want to see her. Tell her -”

“She knows.” Emma turned to leave.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma turned her head. “What? I’m not getting you a new doughnut. You had your chance.”

Gone was the pleading father and the wrathful, angry magician. In his place was a wily, smirking imp. “It’s not that. It’s your eyes. They have a bit of sparkle today. And your cheeks, they have roses in them. Tell me, has something out of the ordinary happened to you since the last time we saw each other?”

Emma’s mouth went suddenly dry. He couldn’t know Killian was back. There was no way. Quickly, she tried to play it off. “You’re creeping me out. See you later.” She headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeon.

But Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t finished. “And how is your baby doing?”

One foot poised above a stair, Emma went rigid. Her heart palpitated, then went into overdrive. Praying her voice wouldn’t tremble, she said, “Henry’s a little old to be called a baby, I think.”

“My dear Miss Swan. You might as well admit it. I know.”

“I don’t have time for this, Gold.” She made it up two steps, deliberately keeping a lackadaisical pace, before he spoke again.

“You probably used some sort of illusion or spell over the months to disguise it when you came to visit me. Clever, but unfortunately for you it couldn’t hide the way you walked, especially near the end. And then there was that four day period when you left me a stockpile of food, and didn’t come at all – I assume that’s when you gave birth. That was, what, nearly five months ago now? Really, you should have just swallowed your pride and allowed one of your trusted comrades to come instead; this insistence that nobody know my location but you is somewhat arrogant. I am not a fool, sheriff. If my math is right, the little one was conceived some time during your jaunt to Camelot, correct? Is it the spawn of our dearly departed pirate, or perhaps one of Arthur’s knights?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“At least you have something to remember him by.”

Because Killian was back, the jab didn’t hurt the way it could have. Emma resumed climbing the stairs.

“Is it a boy, or a girl?”

Emma stepped on the treads a bit harder.

“What is her name, Dearie?”

Her reaction was immediate and visceral. Emma didn’t even remember doing anything, but suddenly Gold was prone in the back of his cell, breathing laboriously. “Thank you, Miss Swan. You’ve given me what I wanted.”

Re-erecting the room’s magical barrier, Emma fled.

You all are amazing, and I cannot thank you enough for your support. I never thought this silly little fic would get this much support. This chapter is for all of you. Every person who took the time to leave a review (sometimes every chapter!!), follow my story, and even those who guest read every week. You are all special to me, and I thank you, thank you, thank you. You make posting chapters so exciting for me. In other news, I am sorry this took so long. I had a very difficult last few weeks, both professionally and personally. Some of it is sorted out now, and hopefully the next update will be faster. Also, full disclosure, Rumple is one of my favorite characters (my little lizard of evil and doom) and I hope I did him justice. The scene with him and Emma just now was one of my most fun to write. See you guys next update!

Chapter Text

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“ That is... q uite the story,” Graham managed, after Emma had given him the condensed version of why there were there.

“ I know.” It sounded fantastical to her own ears, so how would Graham, who remembered her only by her walled-off persona, be able to reconcile the tale with the Emma he knew?

If he had any further reservations about her explanation, though, he kept them to himself. “ Unfortunately , Emma, I haven’t seen anybody of that description.” Peering at her beneath his mop of hair, Graham asked hesitantly, “Are you completely sure he’s here?”

“Yes,” Emma said without hesitation. She didn’t want to profess it aloud, especially not with Gold there, but...

She could have sworn she felt it. Killian was near. He was close to her. Somewhere.
Graham looked down at his clasped hands. “I don’t mean to sound cruel, Emma, but...It’s possible he moved on.”

“Moved on?” David repeated, searching for clarification.

“Yeah, this place is for those who have unfinished business,” Graham stated. “They have to figure out what it is before they can move on – you know, to the ending they’ve earned – either for good, or for bad.”

“Then why are there so many people here?” Emma wondered. “I mean, shouldn’t more have-”

The huntsman grimaced and stared at the apartment’s window, through which filtered the Underworld’s ambient red light. “Because he won’t let us move on.”

“Hades,” Emma muttered, recalling what he’d told her earlier. “Why won’t he?”

“I don’t know. Even for as long as I have been down here, I still don’t know anything about him. He’s not exactly sociable.” Rising from the couch, Graham went to the kitchenette and poured a glass of water. “Anybody else want one?”

Emma, David, and Gold each shook their heads.

“I do this out of habit, you know. We can’t really eat or drink; not like we could before.” Graham glared into the glass before taking a sip. “In any case, I know a way to tell if your – If Killian is still here or not. We have to go to the graveyard.”

“A graveyard?” Alarmed, Emma stood. True, this place seemed to be modeled after Storybrooke, and Storybrooke did have a cemetery, but having one in the Underworld seemed redundant, to say the least. “Why? What’s in the graveyard?”

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. “Your boyfriend’s headstone, naturally. Very clever idea, Huntsman. Allow me to pick something up from my shop along the way, and I will meet you there.”

“I don’t think so,” David warned, heading off Gold before he could reach the front door. “We let you go out on your own, and you’ll be on the next boat out of here. Nice try, but you’re not leaving unless Hook is on that boat next to you.”

Gold gesticulated with his hand towards Emma. “You have quite supportive parents, given that they’re so willing to defend you in your kidnapping of me.”

Emma scoffed. “If you’re kidnapped, then Maleficent is a gecko. Puh-lease.”

“Regardless, the item I need to procure will allow you to contact Hook directly. Is that not what you want?”

Emma thought it over, weighing the desire to find Killian against the probability of Gold lying. Killian won.

“Fine. But if you don’t show -”

“Oh, I’ll be there, Miss Swan. You can count on it.”

Storybrooke

Present day

When Swan returned to the constable’s facility, it was clear to Killian that something significantly vexing had beset her during her errand.

Clutching a flimsy paper bag, she came rushing into the building, straight to her child, and Killian debated asking her what was wrong.

Unable to recover Ariadne from Graham fast enough, Emma pressed the infant’s cheek to her own and cradled her head with her free hand , as if trying to hold her as close as possible. “Dad,” she croaked. “Graham. I think I screwed up. Really bad.”

Interest roused Killian from the cot. This was not Emma’s devastation of earlier in the morning, when t he memory potion didn’t work on him . This, he could tell, was sheer horror and uncontrollable panic.

A giant was incapable of stymieing Swan. He couldn’t imagine what could in duce this kind of reaction.

“What happened?” The ever vigilant David moved to her side and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear . “Emma ? Talk to me. ”

“Did the Da-” Graham interjected with a note of concern; then, squinting through the bars at Killian, revised his question. “Did the...dog escape?”

The deputy’s hand, Killian saw, was going back to his belt for the device which he’d earlier wanted to use on Blackbeard. Killian didn’t know precisely what it was, but instinctively felt sure it was some kind of weapon.

The man was that concerned about a mere dog? Unlikely.

Eyes squeezed shut, obviously trying to regain some composure, Emma shook her head. “Um, no, Graham. He didn’t. But something happened...with him.”

Laughing dryly, Killian remarked, “ Are we talking about a normal dog, or Cerberus?” They were deliberately speaking in pseudonyms, and for his benefit. What were they trying to keep from him?

“Ironic you should say that,” Graham breathed, whilst the Prince chastised, Not now, Hook.

“We need to talk about it, guys,” Emma told her colleagues. “Right now, I...I don’t know how to fix this.” Nodding towards a cordoned off section of the room, Emma went on, “Let’s go to the office.”

At least, Killian reflected, the office in question was conveniently constructed with several large windows; and though he wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation, he could observe them.

“Sounds good,” David agreed. “Want me to take Adi?”

Uncomfortably, Emma stammered, “That’s okay, Dad. I got her.”

More confused than slighted, the Prince asked, “Are you sure? You seem awfully upset.”

“I just kind of want to keep her close right now.” Still troubled, she approached Killian’s cell, shifted the baby, and offered Killian the bag she had brought with her into the building. “Here. I know you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast because of Blackbeard. It’s not as good as Granny’s hot meals, but you always were crazy about her cheese danishes, for some reason. I grabbed it when I got my bear claw. I’ll be back to let you out in a couple of minutes. I’d release you now, but I need to talk to you before that happens, and this -” Her attention fell to the little one in her arms. “This is more important right now.”

Whatever Swan’s fears were, they were surely related to her child, and somehow he couldn’t be angry with her for that. “Well, at least now when you lock me up, you’re warning me beforehand. I suppose that is a step in the right direction. Perhaps next time, you won’t imprison me at all,” he commented, neither arguing nor condoning her decision.

Ariadne vocalized shrilly, stretching her pudgy hand in the direction of Killian’s necklace. Before he could evade the curious fingers, she had snatched the chain and a good portion of the hair on his chest.

This alone stung enough to almost bring water to his eyes. But then she pulled.

“SwANN!” He would never have admitted his voice rose several octaves on the last half of the name; but all the same, he was glad Blackbeard was not conscious to hear it.

“Adi, let go!” Emma carefully pulled her daughter’s vise-like hand away, digit by agonizing digit. “Killian, she’s sorry.”

Ariadne didn’t look sorry – in fact, not an iota of apology was to be found. She was dimpling up at Killian, little indents in her cheeks promising that she had not forgotten her prize, and would endeavor to claim the necklace again at a more convenient time. “She’s a menace. A pirate in training.”

“I won’t argue that,” she replied, distracted and obviously still distressed. “Eat your danish.”

The bag was stuffed unceremoniously into his hand, and then Emma gathered her associates and withdrew into the office.

Killian consumed his baked treat as he watched them. The morsel had far more sugar than the fare to which he was familiar, but delicious nonetheless. Swan had chosen well.

As he had predicted, the walls of the room chosen for her conference were thick enough that he was not privy to the trio’s actual conversation, so he had to rely on their gestures and facial tics. Emma seemed to be trying to convince the men of something; and they, in turn, appeared to be both reassuring her and trying to persuade her of something else.

“ What, oh, what, are you all trying to hide from me?”

Killian was in the midst of rather admiring the fact that Swan did not look to be backing down from her position, when the entrance to the station crashed open and sniping, bellicose voices began reverberating through the building.

Through the glass, he saw Emma frown, hand the baby to David, and then march out of the office to confront the intruders.

There were several of them. As they spilled into the main room, he recognized his crew. Morgan, appointing herself leader, shoved a small card in Swan’s face with the same aggression of one challenging a duel. “I don’t why you imprisoned the Captain, but we’re here to bail him out.”

“How did you find out so fast? Never mind,” Emma groaned. “First of all, you wouldn’t pay the bail to me. In fact, bail hasn’t even been set. Second of all, where and how did you get a credit card? Third, you don’t have to pay anything, anyway. I was just letting him out.”

“Is that Blackbeard?” wondered Jukes, pointing at the left cell, but nobody bothered to answer.

Emma collected the cell keys from her father and opened Killian’s jail cell. For a moment, they each stood where they were, taking one another in. “Well, Swan, I am sure I will see you again, sooner or later.” In fact, he wanted to make sure of it. She hadn’t been hiding the source of her fears from him for nothing.

“Right.” Absently, she toyed with a swatch of his hair, just above the ear. At the very least, she was pleasanter about it than the baby. “You got a haircut last night.”

“That’s courtesy of Mr. Smee, after the celebration of my return. Thankfully he was sober enough to trim it properly.”

“Mmm,” Emma agreed, and stepped back, allowing him to pass by her. “Any ideas as to how it could have grown that long between when we were climbing the beanstalk, and now?”

“Frankly, not one,” he confessed. He didn’t want to dwell on it, or on what the sum of all these discrepancies he’d noticed might total. He had one mission, and nothing was going to make him lose sight of it.

Killian continued in the direction of his crew, but suddenly Swan’s hand was on his arm and she was turning him back towards her. Lifting her face to his, she kissed him.

She tasted as sweet as the confection she’d brought him, and his resolve not to allow it to happen again was swept away as easily as a spot of dust. Unthinkingly, his arms went about her waist. This was not the unrestrained passion of her kiss on the Jolly Roger; it was chaste, gentle, and loving.

Loving?

He disengaged, though their foreheads remained together. “Swan, I told you -”

“Just – try to stay out of trouble tonight, all right?” she said, with the most diminutive of smiles. There was longing in her eyes, a silent plea for him to stay.

“Captain?” Smee prompted. “We should go, sir.”

Killian had completely lost sight of the fact that his crew were in attendance. “Right you are, Mr. Smee.” Giving Swan a half bow, he intoned, “Until next time, my Lady.”

Chapter Text

Later that day, after supper, Emma convened at her parent’s home with the other Storybrooke mothers.

A few nights every month, the parents of Storybrooke would divide up into two groups. Half would go out to socialize, with the benefit of being child-free for the evening, and the other half would look after the young ones to avoid massive babysitter fees. The two groups would alternate weeks. Usually it ended up being either a girls’ night out, or a guys’ night out, although they did mix up the groups once in a while.

That particular evening was supposed to be a ‘guys night out’. David had objected, wanting to spend the night searching for Killian; and though Emma had secretly found that highly amusing, she had firmly put a stop to the protestations.

“Dad, just go and enjoy the evening. W e can’t smother him.” she’d insisted. “Unless he does something dangerous or illegal, we have to leave him be for a little bit.”

Not that she was all that great at following her own advice. Kissing Killian in front of his crew mates had probably not done anything to endear her to him. But she couldn’t get the thought of him planning to meet up with another woman out of her head. It scared her.

Not as much, though, as the fact that Rumpelstiltskin somehow knew of Ariadne’s existence.

Oh, David and Graham had tried to assure her, back at the station. “ He’s still locked up, right? Behind bars that inhibit his magic?” Graham had asked.

“And he’s wearing the neutralizing cuff, too. Besides, did he actually threaten her?” David rationalized.

It had infuriated Emma, even though their intention had been to help, not dismiss her. Gold didn’t have to threaten to be a threat. She knew by now exactly the kind of games he liked to play. If he had destroyed countless lives to get back to Neal, what would stop him from doing the same thing for Reynard?

She wished she could express her fears to Killian. He knew what Gold was, better than anyone. Sadly, at this point, Killian would be more likely to draw his sword and ask questions later, rather than help with a solution.

“Zelena, can you check on the cake in the oven?” Mary Margaret requested as she began pulling drinking glasses out of cabinets.

The Oz witch, filing her nails nearby, tossed her head. “Why not get Gretel to do it?” she asked, and snickered at her own joke. “I’m sure she can let you know if it’s ready or not, Snow.”

“I can do it, Mom,” Emma said, handing Ariadne to Zelena, as she was the only unoccupied adult present.

Gretel was, in fact, upstairs in Emma’s old room, playing video games with Hansel, Violet, and Henry.

When Henry had learned he likely wouldn’t be reuniting with Killian that night, and his mothers subsequently denied his request to go out searching for him with his friends, he’d done the moody teen thing and sequestered himself. Emma hadn’t heard from him for at least a half an hour.

“Cake looks done,” Emma alerted her mother as she blinked against the waves of heat radiating from the oven’s open door.

“Take it out, please. It’ll have to cool before we can frost it.”

Absently, Emma went about the task as she considered how she would confront Henry about his attitude when they went home.

She understood that his moody behavior was most likely a response to being genuinely upset about missing out on welcoming Killian home; but even so, she had to remind him that he couldn’t behave impolitely, especially at his grandmother’s home.

That is, she’d follow through on it if she could stay awake long enough.

“Ow!” Emma exclaimed as the pot holder slipped from the edge of her hand, and the hot pan pressed into her bare skin.

“Daydreaming about your lover?” Zelena giggled, jouncing Ariadne as Emma hastily set down the pan and flourished some healing magic over the burn. “Careful, it can be dangerous.”

“Emma, are you all right?” Mary Margaret fussed. “Come and run some water over your hand.”

“It’s already healed; thanks Mom,” Emma said quickly, wishing the night was already over.

Zelena turned her emery board over and started in on Ariadne’s small nails, humming softly.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked.

“Well, she is royalty, isn’t she? Appearances are everything. Her nails need work. And you’d think you could do something with all this hair of hers, Emma. It sticks up all over the place.”

Emma inhaled sharply. “Thanks for the tip.” Even though Zelena had reconciled with her sister and was no longer a threat, even becoming trustworthy to some degree, she still wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable person in Storybrooke.

“Did you know your father confessed his love for your mother to me first, Adi?” Zelena asked conversationally as she moved on to the baby’s other hand. “It was darling.”

Emma softened, but then Zelena ruined it. “So then I had to throw him into a cistern to make your mother realize how she felt about him.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Oh, lighten up. She doesn’t understand a word I’m saying and besides, you have your man back, don’t you?”

Grumbling, Emma walked away from the kitchen area and towards the other mothers.

Ashley was coloring with her creatively frustrated toddler, Alex, and trying to help her stay within the lines, to no avail. Roland was sitting beside them with his own coloring book, occasionally imparting encouraging comments to the younger child. Aurora and Phillip Jr. were sitting on the couch, beside Belle and Reynard.

Reynard was somehow managing to sleep, despite Phillip’s intermittent yelling as he fought his mother to be put down.

Emma was glad Aurora was chatting with Belle. Most people in Storybrooke were either unsure of what to say to Belle; or even worse, uncomfortable with Reynard’s sickly appearance, but Aurora had grown from her inexperienced Enchanted Forest days into a leader with natural aplomb.

Regina was on hand to watch Neal and her niece, Zeph (Short for Zephyr – why Robin had permitted Zelena to name the baby, Emma would never know.)

And, off in the corner, Lily and Maleficent sipped the margaritas they’d brought. Still feeling guilty for taking Lily, Mary Margaret never failed to invite them, though the didn’t often socialize.

Just as Emma’s attention wandered back to her one-and-a-half year old brother, she saw Neal’s eyes gleam wickedly, and he reached over and pinched Zeph’s arm.

Under most circumstances, Zeph took after her father and was one of the most easygoing kids in Storybrooke, but the pinch must have been more painful than it appeared, because she tilted her auburn head back and began bawling.

“Zeph!” Regina exclaimed over the cries, scooping up the girl and looking her over. “What happened?”

“I saw exactly what happened. The Charming spawn attacked my daughter! Again!” Zelena erupted, terrifying Ariadne, who was still in her arms. Seconds later, the apartment descended into the pandemonium of crying babies.

“Zelena, please, be patient,” Mary Margaret’s voice begged into the chaos as mothers tried to reestablish calm.

“I wish my time spell would have worked on that little brat!” Zelena hissed, but Emma could sense she was more talk than action, and wouldn’t actually harm Neal.

Though Zelena’s reaction was extreme, Emma was getting a bit tired of Neal’s shenanigans herself. He routinely bullied the other babies during get-togethers, and though Snow was sure he’d grow out of it, David had recently confided to Emma that he was becoming worried that Neal was taking after his twin brother James, more than him or his wife.

Emma personally felt neither opinion was true and Neal did it simply to see the reactions that he caused, and she felt that he might benefit with a time-out in his crib every time he instigated chaos, so that the novelty of seeing the ensuing activity would be taken away.

But hey, she wasn’t his parent. The best she could do was keep Ariadne out of arm’s reach whenever he was around.

“Zelena,” Regina said calmly, “I know the children in Leopold’s legacy can seem difficult at first but -” The Queen broke off to smile at Mary Margaret. “They turn out pretty decent. Give the little guy another chance.” Zeph, never one for much drama, had already finished crying.

As harmony was slowly restored, Emma noticed Henry balancing on the steps, peering about in wonderment. “Henry?” she invited.

“Uh, I just came down for some more chips. What happened?” Trotting down the steps, he passed by Zelena, with a casual, “Hey sis,” and a boop on the nose for Ariadne, which dried her tears almost immediately. Grabbing a bag of Doritos from the counter, he scurried back upstairs without waiting for the answer.

Emma closed her eyes. Yes, this night was going to drag on for a long, long time.

Killian had entered the Rabbit Hole with his crew in tow, only to find the Prince, Graham, and several other men he didn’t recognize already crowding the place. Frustration set in as he realized that if he desired a truly private conference with Madam Mim, any such dealings would have to wait until the first group had departed.

He was now ensconced in his quarters on the Jolly Roger, reorganizing things that had been moved – presumably by Swan – back to his liking.

There was a loud knock from above, along with a request. It sounded like Starkey. “A word, Captain?”

“Very well,” Killian acquiesced, and his subordinate had joined him in the quarters. “What is it?”

The man’s eyes, which normally held more kindness than befit a pirate, were unfaltering. His face, prematurely weathered by years above deck, was implacable. “It’s about Emma Swan and her daughter.”

“What of them?”

“You’re that baby’s father,” Starkey stated without further preamble.

Though he had been expecting to hear it at some point, he hadn’t anticipated it would come from one of his crew, and a curious, unexpected feeling struck him at actually hearing the words spoken aloud.

“So, congratulations. And if I may say so, Sir, it’s time for you to step up and start realizing what’s really important in life. Emma loves you, she risked everything for you, and your baby needs you.”

Killian stared at the man indignantly. Though it was true that he allowed his crew more leniency than most captains, between Starkey’s bluntness, Jukes’ attempts to act without orders, and Morgan’s recent impertinence, he perhaps had to start reevaluating his methods. “I do not recall asking for your opinion, Mr. Starkey.”

Starkey gave him a long-suffering look. “I take it you already figured it out, then?”

“I am not an imbecile,” Killian replied, exasperated. “Last night you were honoring the one year anniversary of my ‘demise’. Swan seems to believe she and I had some sort of dalliance before that time. The child is but a few months old, at most, and her eyes are quite a stunning shade of blue. What other conclusion could I possibly draw?”

The facts he’d tried to ignore and overlook all day long tumbled forth from the crevices of the subconscious of his mind, where he’d thought he’d safely hidden them, and he quickly bit his tongue.

“So you believe it,” Starkey said, sounding relieved. “Good. I have Emma’s phone number. I can have her here in a few minutes, so you can talk to-”

“I never said I believed it,” Killian said, suddenly raspy. Why did his mouth feel so dry? “I merely pointed out that I am aware it is most likely the common belief around here.”

“Oh? And what if it is true, Sir?” Starkey pressed. “Are you just going to ignore your daughter? Leave her without a father? For the love of the gods, I’ve heard even that idiot Blackbeard acknowledges his children.”

“Are you even aware of what my last interaction with my own father was?”

“No, Sir.”

“No, nor would you want to.” Killian compressed his lips, glowering. “Hypothetically, even if – if—the child is...if I was...” Killian took a breath. “The deputy fellow seems to desire the job. I am sure he’d be a much better role model than myself.” Pointing to the exit, Killian made to end the conversation. “You can see yourself out now.”

The old pirate wouldn’t budge. “Sir, please. Don’t just throw this away. What if I am right?”

“You’re not. And I will not further deceive a woman who could be under a spell. I’ll not use trickery.”

“Spells can’t make a person love someone.”

How Starkey, a half-educated sailor, had come about that information, he could not guess. “Aye, but I have studied magic for a long time, and I know it can make people believe they do.”

“Sir, will all due respect -”

With a hard laugh, Killian asked, “What does it matter to you, anyway, Mr. Starkey?”

“I’ve met somebody here,” Starkey explained. “A lovely woman. A widow. A duchess, if you can believe it. She’s let me into her life, introduced me to her family, and grandchildren, and it’s...” He paused to take in the expanse of the ship that surrounded them. “All this, it can’t compare. Also,” he continued smugly, “this way, when you get your memories back, you can’t lump me in with the dolts who are trying to keep you from them.”

“Oh, so Mr. Starkey has a brush with nobility, and being a pirate suddenly isn’t good enough for him. I see. I prefer you take leave of the Jolly Roger entirely, Mr. Starkey, until such a time as you can learn her value.”

“I tried, Sir, I really did,” Starkey said tiredly. “Remember that. And don’t forget about that baby. Even if you won’t trouble yourself with her, at least don’t forget about her.”

After saying his piece, Starkey lumbered out of the quarters, leaving Killian alone.

Knowing he was ten kinds of a fool, yet unable to stop himself, Killian went to the wardrobe, opened it, and stood there staring at the dainty infant socks.

For a long, long time.

Chapter Text

The dark canvas of night had once again cloaked the town. Killian and two specially selected members of his crew stole into the tavern again, close to its appointed closing.

This time the place was empty, save for the tall, slim woman behind the bar counter. She seemed to take no note of the pirates as they entered, working with her back to them as she nimbly cleaned some glasses,

“Good evening, my lady. Could you tell me, please, where to find Mim?” Killian cajoled.

Without turning, the woman replied, “That would be me. Now, the real question is, ‘What does the infamous Captain Hook want with a simple bartender’?”

Innuendos were his natural pretense when trying to traverse his way through potentially uncertain situations, and one rose easily to his mind, but something made him reconsider. “I’ve heard you’re far more than that, lass.”

At last, the woman faced him. Her hair, so blonde it was nearly pearlescent, glowed below the bar’s lights. With every movement she made, he thought he could catch glimmers of lavender in the strands. “What exactly have you heard?”

Projecting an aura of self-assurance, Killian went to the bar and leaned his arms lackadaisically across it. “Just that you are a person of great abilities, and that we may mutually benefit from an alliance, of sorts.”

Her teeth sparkled in a predatory smile. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“Confident, love.”

Aiming her gaze at him, her eyes also tinged with that eerie shade of purple that belied her human appearance, Mim chortled. “I would have thought you’d want to go straight back to the Swan woman. I hope your request is not because of some petty reconciliation issue.”

“That is not even remotely what I am proposing,” Killian assured her. “I fear my intentions are not nearly that benevolent.”

Pouring a drink, Mim slid it his way. “Now you have my attention. Go on.”

Downing the spirits, Killian replied, “I have a reptile problem. Fairly straightforward. My associates tell me you could help. His name is Rumpelstiltskin, but you may know him as the Dark One.”

“I’ve heard about your legendary feud with him. Sadly, my troubles are not so easily resolved.” Jaw shifting up and down a few times, Mim considered him thoughtfully.

“Why is that?” Though he didn’t care about her motives, he did want to gauge her sincerity before giving his allegiance to her, especially after his recent experiences with Cora and Swan. Betrayal was not something he wished to involve himself in again.

“Oh, nothing you would be interested in hearing about, I’m sure. It’s a long, dull tale, really. All you need to know is that my wand was taken from me, and I will be useless to your cause without it.” Though she spoke lightly, her hand clenched around the bottle of alcohol.

“You were a fairy,” Killian deduced, waving away her offer of another drink. “A banished one; like the lady Tinkerbell, I’d wager.”

Coldly, Mim demanded, “Do you want to find Rumpelstiltskin or not?”

Lowering his head and coming to a decision, Killian snapped sharply, “Smee, Cecco. Leave us.”

After some sulking, the duo obeyed and retreated to a distant table.

“I do want to find him. And I want to kill him,” Killian told her testily, once he was sure they were out of earshot. “If you are unable to assist me, I will find another way, but do not waste my time.”

Affronted, Mim smarted back, “I can help you, but you need to help me first. Finding your enemy can be as easy as a simple locator spell, but to do that I need my wand.”

“I presume that’s where I come in?”
“How clever you are.” Mim taunted, chin still snapping. She was chewing something, he realized. Something pastel-colored. Suddenly a pink mass formed from her lips, ballooned to a small bubble, and popped, disappearing back into the recesses of her mouth. “Yes. I need you to get the wand, Captain. That is my price for helping you.”

“And why haven’t you procured it for yourself?”

“Why, what an excellent idea. Why ever didn’t I think of it before?” Mim asked sourly. “Of course I tried. Blue, who is in charge of the fairies, put a magic field around my wand that I cannot penetrate. However, I am the only one it prohibits. You could get it for me.”

“You’ve never asked anybody else before this?”

“Who would have helped me?” she contradicted. “The savior has converted, chased off, or locked away almost all of those in opposition to her. There is nobody competent left. For example, I have nothing against your crew, but there isn’t a quality one among them, perhaps save that Starkey person. Where is he, by the way? I would think he’d be against this plan.”

“I dismissed him,” Killian responded absently, already weighing whether he’d take the fairy’s offer. “The rest are guarding the ship.”

He trusted Emma’s abilities, but he wasn’t sure if the protective barrier she’d placed around the ship was still in place. He and his crew had boarded the Jolly Roger easily enough.

“Good,” Mim approved. “I don’t want this spread to more people than necessary. Now, the wand is kept in the fairies’ convent. When you break into there, you have to be sure -”

“I still haven’t actually agreed to your offer,” Killian pointed out.

“You will.”

“Fairies may well be the subject of every child’s sweet dream, but I know well enough that some of them can be the stuff of nightmares if you get on their bad side.” He didn’t add Such as yourself, I imagine, but the implication was there.

“What are you trying to say?”

“There is a lot of risk. You said yourself that you are asking me to cross the head fairy.”

“I am giving you your life’s goal in return. What more do you want?”

Killian toyed with the empty glass. “Jukes, one of my men. He has a lover in this town, who recently bore a child. He claims he is not sure if it is his. Is there any way to be...sure?”

Merrily, Mim laughed. “That’s all? A paternity test for your idiot crew member?”

“Are you saying the deal is off the table? Because it will be if you refuse this.”

Her face arched in surprise. “That is what you’ve chosen to make or break this deal? Not your loathed Dark One?”

He steered clear of the question. “Well, a prudent Captain is attuned to the needs of his crew. Otherwise there is mutiny.”

“Quite.” Mim turned her head and spit the pink wad into a waste bin. “Nothing worse than gum that’s gone flat. Very well, I know of a potion that can prove or disprove lineage. I will need my wand before I can create it, however.”

Something occurred to Killian. “The potion, it wouldn’t hurt...the baby, would it?”

“I will need the child’s tongue, the whole of it.”

At Killian’s appalled expression, Mim sneered delightedly. “I’m joking, of course. Your pirate friend will only need something that belongs to him, and something belonging to the baby. A trinket or personal effect. The potion will do the rest.”

“I h-I’m sure he has something.”

“Very well, then. We have a deal?”

Killian only hesitated for a moment. “I get your wand for you, and you make the potion and help me find the crocodile. It’s a deal.”

“Good.” Glancing at a timepiece, unaccountably strapped to her wrist, Mim sniffed. “Well. I can’t advise you to go there yet. There’s still a chance one of the ‘Sisters’ might still be awake.” With a crafty smile, the fairy added, “If you would like, I can close this place down, and we can go to my place and celebrate our newly forged alliance.”

They suggestive, enticing body language she was using left him no doubts as to what she was actually offering. But something seemed off.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had similar offers from ladies in the past – perhaps even more often than then times when he’d initiated proposals – but until this moment, Mim had been all business, even turning sarcasm and a short temper on him. He hadn’t deduced any interest of the intimate kind on her part at all.

Still, it was her idea, she was very attractive, and there was time...

And there was Emma. Emma with her green eyes and incredible kisses and rugged dedication. Emma’s baby with the untamed hair and delicate, frilly socks.

“As enjoyable as that sounds, maybe our time would be better spent on strategy? For instance, I am completely ignorant of the layout of the convent I am about to plunder. Perhaps you could give me more details of what you know?”

Mim’s eyes narrowed. Killian had a sudden feeling that she’d been testing him, and that he’d somehow failed. “I suppose you’re right. Well, the other fairies never exactly invited me in for tea, but I will tell you what I know.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“What is that?” Regina demanded as they passed by the living room.

The entire group, with the exception of Gold and Graham, had retreated to Emma’s house for some rest. They had chosen it because it was large enough to accommodate everybody, and unlike Regina’s mansion, it was unoccupied.

Emma just hadn’t expected it to contain a nursery. She felt herself gaping in wonder as she took in the sight of the pretty, embossed crib, adorned with its little white bows and overhanging unicorn mobile. A stuffed bear and tiger rested beneath the crib. Behind it, against the wall, was a cabinet full of more toys, and a large stuffed giraffe stood over to the side.

“It’s Emma’s crib,” Mary Margaret commented, voice unsteady. “See? There’s the wardrobe we put her in, over there.”

“Okay. Why is it here?” Regina wondered. “This place looks like it’s all ready for the owners to move in. Look at the kitchen; some of the furniture is draped in cloth. There’s children’s things on the counters.”

“Odd,” Robin mused, circling around her and peering up the stairs. “Emma, there are more toys over here.”

David placed a hand on her back. “Everything okay, Emma?”

The nursery sat there, spilling its contents throughout the house, as if taunting her. The past was overwhelming the future that the home was supposed to represent. “Yeah. I mean, as well as I can be.”

“It’s just...this place is a little creepy.” When Emma gave him a look, David added, “Your real home is great!”

Oh, dad.

“Sorry. This isn’t coming out right. What happened with your real nursery isn’t-”

“We’ll talk about it later, Dad. Hey, Henry!” She caught her son as he was picking up a toy carriage from an end table. “Why don’t you and Grandpa go see if there’s anything to eat in the kitchen. I’m starving!”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Would you like mac and cheese from a box? I can make it. I mean, I’m pretty good at it now.”

“Great!” In fact, the last thing Emma wanted to do was eat, but it would give Henry a distraction and something to think about after seeing the vision of Killian at his grave, bruised and battered.

She also needed to talk to him about Neal, at some point. In the cemetery, Graham had mentioned that normal headstones meant the person was still in the Underworld, tipped headstones meant they had peacefully moved on, and cracked ones meant the person’s soul had a grim finish. Neal’s had been tipped, leaving Emma both glad for him, and a bit sad. Even though Neal was in a better place, it would have been good to see him one more time, and especially for Henry to say goodbye.

“Dad, can you go help Henry cook?”

David gave her his best we’re-talking-about-this-later look and followed Henry to the kitchen.

“Well, I am going to use the shower, if you don’t mind, Emma,” Regina announced. “Wash off all this Underworld decay. If you don’t mind me running up your afterlife bill, that is.”

“Yeah. Whatever, go ahead,” Emma allowed, wishing she could simultaneously run out and rescue Killian from whatever torture he was enduring, and curl up and close her eyes. If only she didn’t feel so ill.

“Did I say something wrong, Emma?” Regina demanded.

“I think I’m going to go back out into town and ask more people if they’ve seen Killian,” Emma said, swaying slightly as she went back toward the front door.

“No, Emma, you won’t do any good for him like this. You’re tired and hungry, and you need rest,” Snow declared. “Go up to your room and at least take a nap.”

“But-”

“The Underworld will be here when you wake up, I promise,” Snow soothed. “Go.”

Emma at last acquiesced, trudging up the stairs and depositing herself on the queen-sized bed in the master bedroom.

She didn’t sleep, but resting her body made the throbbing in her head dissipate, and her stomachache subsided.

After about fifteen minutes, somebody entered the room. “Emma?” Regina asked.

Emma didn’t move. As of that moment, she wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything with anybody.

“So now you’re just not going to talk to me?” Regina muttered. “Look, I am sorry for what happened to Graham.”

“Maybe you should be telling him that, instead of me,” Emma countered bitterly, sitting up. She knew she was being petulant, but she couldn’t help it. Killian was out there facing torment, and she wasn’t doing a thing to stop it.

“I would! I want to! I just...don’t know how.” Regina walked into Emma’s bedroom, fully re-dressed and fiercely toweling her hair dry. “Look, after what happened with my mother and father today, now we know that the people down here can be saved. I want to make sure Graham is one of them.”

“ ‘Operation Firebird’,” Emma said, quoting their son. “Well, I want Graham to be one of them, too.”

“You think we can help him move on? It’ll be hard, what with Gold ditching us.”

“Move on? That’s all?” Emma asked, crossing her legs on the mattress. “I was thinking we’d bring Graham back home. Alive.”

Regina removed the towel from her hair and gave Emma a pained look. “That would be ideal, but it’s going to be hard enough to bring the pirate back. I think we should be reasonable. I wouldn’t want to get his hopes up. Your heart half is going to Hook, Snow’s is already in her husband. And Graham would probably rather go into that fiery pit I told you about than take mine. I doubt it works between people who don’t love each other.”

“We should still try,” Emma said stiffly, struggling to keep anger out of her tone. “Maybe there’s another way.”

“Maybe there is,” Regina granted, subdued. “If there is, I will do what it takes. I want to help as many down here as I can. Being stuck in one place for eternity, nothing changing, helpless to control your destiny...It’s one of the worst fates I could think of, which is why I used the curse I did.” Hopefully, she added, “This time I can do something right.”

“Yeah. I think -”

Cutting herself off, Emma flew off the bed into the adjoining bathroom and lifted the toilet lid with wildly shaking fingers before vomiting into the bowl.

“Ugh. Emma, do you need...help?” Regina called a second later, from the door frame. She sounded like she would rather do anything else in the world. Not that Emma could blame her.

“I didn’t know queens handled puking,” Emma tried to laugh through the disgusting aftertaste.

“Believe me, I cleaned up plenty after Henry in my time. Having a young child will do that to you.” Regina dug a towel out from under the sink and handed it to her. “At least you didn’t miss the toilet. What happened? Did you eat something bad?”

“No. I suddenly smelled something from downstairs. I think it’s the noodles Henry is cooking. They must be burning, or something.” Emma pressed her face into the towel to avoid the odor.

Regina inhaled. “I don’t smell a thing.”

“Well, I do. it’s hor-”

Emma faced the toilet and once again relieved her stomach.

“There’s definitely something wrong with you,” Regina asserted in that irrefutable way she had. “Do you have a fever?” She began opening drawers throughout the bathroom. “There must be a thermometer in here somewhere.”

“Doubt dead people keep thermometers in stock. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a fever,” Emma moaned, leaning her chin on the porcelain. “Maybe I just need to sleep it off. I’m tired...”

“Maybe you’re pregnant. Maybe that’s why a nursery invaded your house.”

Regina meant it as an offhanded and harmless comment, but Emma didn’t think such an idea was a laughing matter. Especially at a time like this. “Don’t even joke.”

The other woman seemed taken aback by her vehemence. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” She braced her arm against the sink. “But now that we’re mentioning it, why so defensive? Are you pregnant? Is that why you were so desperate to come down here and get Hook back?”

Pregnant. The word alone was enough to inspire old fears. Fear of abandonment, fear of imprisonment. Fear of failing another human being, her own son.

Emma’s walls fortified themselves. She wouldn’t entertain the possibility. She refused. “What? No, of course I’m not pregnant” Of this fact, she was fairly certain. “It’s not possible. I’ve been very careful. I...”

And yet, a recent memory was surfacing. A warm, sunlit field of flowers and freedom, respite from a darkness that was pushed away, oh so briefly, by gentle, enveloping love.

Almost kindly, Regina broke into her reverie. “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t want to know about what you and Guyliner do in your spare time. No offense. But Emma, if there’s a chance you are going to have another baby, you better face it now, before we have to face off with Hades or something equally difficult.”

“I’m not.”

“Not going to face it, or not pregnant?”

“The second one.” Pushing off her knees, Emma scoured the room for a toothbrush. Upon finding one, she scrubbed valiantly at her foul tasting mouth, looking at Regina in the mirror as if daring her to contradict her.

“Prove it.”

“Eshuse me?” Emma mumbled through the paste.

“You heard me.” With a puff of red smoke, Regina was holding some yellowish leaves.

“What is that?” They didn’t stink, but Emma felt the need to wrinkle her nose for effect.

“It’s called the terron leaf. It’s from the Enchanted Forest. There are many uses for it, which is why I keep a supply of it in my vault, but its most common use in that land was a pregnancy test. Boil it like tea. If it turns your urine a dark amber color, you’re pregnant.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy, or normal.”

“Would you rather go to the store down here and buy some modern pregnancy tests? Announce it to the whole Underworld?”

“Well, I can’t exactly go downstairs and boil water, either! My parents will know what the leaves are for.”

After another flourishing movement, Regina produced a steaming mug, then crumbled the leaves into it. “As one of your family, I’m telling you Emma, please don’t ignore this.”

A few hours later, long after the mac and cheese she’d been too nauseous and anxious to touch, Emma once more stared into the toilet bowl.

Stricken.

“Hey, Mom, are you in there?” Henry knocked. “My other mom wants to talk to you.”

Emma barely heard him. She was frozen, in a time long ago, a time of handcuffs and isolation and misery. Her breath was shortening and her face was hardening.

“Mom, you okay?”

Emma dimly registered his footsteps walking away, and then somebody forcing open the door and coming to hover beside her. She closed the toilet seat lid, but not quickly enough.

“Well. Congratulations to you, Miss Swan.” Regina said softly. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be in happier circumstances.”

“Nobody can know about this, Regina,” Emma said mechanically, holding down the handle and flushing away the evidence. “Not my parents, not Robin, not Henry.”

“I can keep a secret.” Regina promised, “But I think maybe we should reconsider.”

“Reconsider what?” Emma washed her hands and dried them on a pretty red towel. Killian’s ring slid across her breastbone, reminding her of exactly why she was here, and how the stakes had changed.

“I mean, in light of this news,” Regina said, clearly trying to tread carefully, “maybe we should stop and think about what we’re doing. Maybe it’s time to go home.”

“Abandon Hook?” The thought enraged her. It felt good to be angry. If she was angry, she didn’t have to be terrified. Terrified for Killian, and her family. “Regina, did you even see him at the cemetery? That image – he was suffering! He could barely stand. I’m not going to just leave him.”

“I know very well how he looked, Emma. And I understand how you feel. But did you ever consider how the Underworld might affect the baby? Or what would happen if we come across Hades and you’re not fully concentrating? How do you think Hook would feel if he knew all that you’re risking for him?”

A twinge of guilt hit her. “He wouldn’t want me here.” Emma didn’t bother to deny it. She knew Killian would probably rather face eternal torment than endanger everybody else. “Even if I wasn’t...You know. He still wouldn’t want me here. But I never listen.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Folding the red towel so she’d have something to do with her hands, Emma tried to explain. “I’m not...I’m not doing this out of selfishness, Regina. Like I said back in Storybrooke, I’m putting my trust and hope in love. Like, you know, my parents. It always seems to work out for them. I’m not repeating the mistakes I made as the Dark One.” The last time she’d brought Killian back to life had been about fear of loss. This mission had started in faith. Even if right now, she was scared out of her mind.

“Emma, I came here to help and support you, and I am going to keep doing that. If you feel like rescuing Hook is what you need to do, then that’s what we do. But if your parents figure out you’re pregnant, they might try to convince you otherwise.”

“They might,” Emma told her. “But I’d just remind them.”

“Remind them of what?”

“That if they were in the same situation, they’d do the exact same thing for each other.”

“You know, your parents split Snow’s heart when she was pregnant with your brother,” Regina reflected.

“Yeah, I guess they did.” Emma touched the chain of her necklace.

“Funny how the past can repeat itself.” Regina considered their reflections in the large bathroom mirror. “What do you want me to tell Henry? He knows something is wrong.”

“Just tell him I’m tired from not being able to sleep as the Dark One. It’s not exactly a lie. I’ll tell him the whole truth when we get out of here.” She’d add it to the list of sins she’d accumulated since Camelot. Thankfully, this one was mild in comparison to the last thing she’d kept from her son.

“Let’s hope that’s soon,” Regina plucked at some lint on her sleeve, as if trying to hide the seriousness of what she was saying. “But not before getting Hook and helping as many people down here as possible, of course.”

“Yeah.” Emma looked down at the tile.

“You need a few minutes to yourself?” Regina asked. “You’ve been through a lot, especially in the last forty eight hours. I can tell them you’re taking a bath, or something.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

When Regina had left, Emma lowered herself onto the rim of the bathtub, her legs shaking. The enormity of the situation hit her.

She was going to have a baby, and the baby’s father was dead because Emma had killed him.

Emma mentally reached for her defenses and armor. Oh, how badly she needed them. This place seemed to feed off her despair.

Was she prepared to raise a child? The false memories Regina gave her said yes, but in reality...she’d never even had a pet. By the time Emma had met Henry, he was, in a lot of ways, autonomous. He did still depend on his mothers, but he could dress himself, eat, and breathe on his own.

Oh, god, didn’t babies randomly stop breathing sometimes? Or was she making that up?

A tear tracked down her face. Emma hadn’t considered before whether she wanted more kids or not. Oddly enough, she didn’t even remember discussing such a thing with Walsh, and they’d been on the verge of engagement.

Just another red flag she’d missed. Just more proof she wasn’t sufficiently functional or stable for the responsibility of caring for an infant.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Emma apologized quietly. But she knew at the same time she wouldn’t be strong enough to give the child up. Not this time.

And when they found Killian, would she tell him? Could she? Would it further motivate him to come back with them, or would it just be another cruelty and burden heaped onto the fact that he wasn’t alive?

Emma ran the water in the bathtub to drown the noise of her weeping.

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

Present day

The convent was so deathly still that if he didn’t know the truth beforehand, Killian would have been convinced that the only breathing beings on the plot were himself, Smee, and Cecco.

He’d once heard a rumor that the Dark One and the fairies were at odds in some way, and he wondered if it was possible that the crocodile was imprisoned somewhere on this very premises.

Certainly an intriguing thought, but no matter the case, the truth would be revealed when Mim was able to use her wand for a locator spell.

A wand they had yet to recover.

“Did Mim have any suggestions for breaking in?” Smee breathed, shifting his weight from foot to foot in giddy anticipation of their illegal activities. Killian could see his first mate’s focus was entirely on the main entrance.

“Not particularly. Her advice was centered more on the wand’s location. But I would think it best not to start with the obvious. Let’s pass on the front door.”

The brisk, damp air wrapped frigid fingers around Killian as he lead his men in an arc to the back of the convent. From what he could see of the building’s exterior, the place had no kind of security; but in a land where carriages could drive without horses, how could he be positive his assumptions were correct?

So he moved slowly and deliberately, hyperaware of the environment and poised for anything, be it trap or test. In legend, fairies loved their mischief and any opportunity to tease, although he hadn’t sensed any such tendencies in Lady Tinkerbell. Perhaps it did not behoove pirates to clandestinely skulk about, but this could be his last opportunity to enact his revenge.

Naturally, he would have to find the Dark One dagger as well, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Deciding to consult his men, who were far more acquainted with the Land Without Magic than himself, Killian motioned them behind the trunk of a large tree and whispered, “Do the two of you see any security measures protecting the building?”

Cecco shrugged. “Ain’t much gonna stop us on the outside, sir. Floodlights or cameras, at the most, though I didn’t see nothin’. ‘S the inside we gotta worry about. The nuns could have an alarm built in there.”

The terms ‘floodlight’ and ‘alarm’ seemed quite self-explanatory; however... “Camera?” Killian inquired.

“Portrait-taker,” Cecco said offhandedly.

Dismissively, Killian waved a hand. “Well, even if there are ‘cameras’, we will surely be long gone with our prize by the time the fairies see our portraits.”

“Indeed, sir,” Smee said, eyes shining as he further contemplated partaking in the thievery. “It’s been far too long since our last enterprise.”

“Enough reminiscing, Mr. Smee,” Killian rebuked, quietly but harshly. “Do you want to be here until the sun comes up? We need to find a way inside the bloody building, first.” Pointing with his chin, the captain nodded toward the corner of the convent. “There. A window that’s low enough for us to reach. Shall we?”

The branches of the trees shrouded the pirates from moonlight, until they reached the side of the building. From there, they leaned against the facing, sidling along until they came to the entry point.

Killian took a moment to study the mechanism. It quickly became clear to him that instead of swinging straight out, this window’s panes were designed to open by sliding parallel to one another. It was of no importance; he could unfasten this style just as easily.

“Let’s see who’s home, eh?” Cecco rasped, crouching and peering inside the room. Just what he was hoping to see, Killian did not know. He himself could barely view across the yard, never mind into a dark building.

“I think it’s a storage room,” Cecco voiced. “There are boxes everywhere.”

“Really?”

“Aye, that or some really strangely shaped furniture. It’s shapes of diff’rnt sizes, stacked atop of each other. Meself, I reckon crates or boxes.”

“Good enough for me.” Drawing his cutlass, Killian wedged the blade between the frame and the glass. Adjusting his height, hand and hook for the proper leverage, he began to slowly pry open the window.

Well maintained, the window slid unresistingly, offering entrance to the convent. Killian leaned his head inside the building. “You’re right,” he stated. “It’s a storage room.”

One by one, the men slipped through the frame, until they were amid the dusty shelving and stacked items. Exhaling, Killian hunted among the dark shapes for a candle or lantern, but Smee meandered through the clutter, tripping occasionally, and finally began pawing at the wall near the room’s only door.

Before he could ask his first mate what precisely he was trying to do, the room was bathed in light.

“Found the switch,” Smee bragged.

Still unaccustomed to the eccentricities and novelties of such technologies, Killian furrowed his brow. “What if somebody notices the light under the door?” he hissed, partly because it concerned him, and party to cover his embarrassment at his continued unfamiliarity with this world.

“Bit late to worry ‘bout it now, Smee” Cecco growled. “You fo-”

Killian motioned abruptly for quiet, and the pirates immediately stopped quarreling, knowing the time for pettiness was past, and they now needed to focus on the mission.

Smee pressed his ear against the wood of the door and listened. They waited two full minutes until the compact man smiled and gave a truncated nod. “I think we’re clear.”

Venturing forth from the storage room, the men paused in the darkened hallway, trying to get their bearings. “Flashlights,” Cecco breathed, reaching into his jacket and bringing out two cylinders. “Didn’t wanna use ‘em when we were outside, where just anyone could see ‘em. Only got two, though.”

There were soft clicking noises, and then two beams of light burst from the cylinders. Tensing, Killian surveyed the doors in proximity, but none of them opened.

Holding out an expectant hand, Killian twitched his fingers twice, and Cecco placed one of the lights in his palm.

“The library,” Smee uttered, just barely audible. “Didn’t you say Mim thought it would be in the library?”

“Indeed,” Killian confirmed, wishing they could communicate without speaking. To his wary mind, the hallway was like an echo chamber, one that could potentially draw the notice of any insomniac fairy. “I am not so positive, but regardless, we will go there first.”

Mim’s theory respecting her wand’s location went against every instinct of his, but as an interloper in her mysterious conflict with the leader of the fairies, Killian felt beholden to take her advice.

Killian followed the blue walls and high, arched ceiling past several more closed rooms, sensing the library would be an open area. He moved swiftly and lightly, Cecco matching him step for step, while Smee seemed to be trying to actually tiptoe, which slowed their progress.

Making another impatient gesture, Killian looked urgently at his first mate.

“I don’t have a flashlight, sir!” Smee protested, trying to excuse himself. “I can’t go that fast without being able to see!”

“Take it!” hissed Cecco, handing over his cylinder. “Just shut up!”

How the whole convent was not awake by this point, Killian did not know, but he was grateful.

They continued through the convent, which had more twists and turns than Killian had expected. There were small alcoves that housed religiously themed statuettes, leading into nothing, sitting rooms with sofas and cushions, and even what looked like a small classroom or studying center. But he saw nothing that looked like a library.

It was when they came to an industrial-type kitchen with two swinging doors that Killian heard a voice. Immediately backing away from the door and shooing his men around the nearest corner, he began to eavesdrop. Smee clicked off his light, and Cecco leaned over to show the captain how to do the same.

The sweet strains of a feminine voice, warm and kind, were brightening the dark drabness of the convent. “No, I’m just getting a midnight snack.” Silence. “Really, you didn’t wake me!” Another break in her conversation. “I wanted you to. You know this is the only time we can talk to each other, when Blue won’t know.” A giggle followed.

Was the lass speaking to herself, or were there others? Killian mulled over exactly how many people could be in the galley.

“Talking device,” Smee explained under his breath, elbowing Killian. “The other person isn’t in this building.”

“Magic? Emma’s baby? Made the lights flicker last night, huh? Oh, at the Rabbit Hole.”

So little Ariadne possessed magic. Not overly sensational information, considering who her mother was.

“Umm, Leroy, I..oh, dear, I don’t mean to be unkind, but...how much did you have to drink before that?.....No, no, of course I believe you! Of course!”

The kitchen doors opened, and a woman emerged, clothed in a white nightgown. He could not see her features, but she held one hand against an ear, and the other was occupied placing food in her mouth.

As she neared, Killian prepared himself, hoping against hope he wouldn’t have to confront the woman. He had no dispute with the fairies, and this one sounded like she had a good heart.

It was with no little appreciation on his part, therefore, that the woman did not turn the corner to discover their hiding spot, but continued on in a straight line down the hallway, in the direction of a wide set of stairs. Munching her midnight snack and chatting softly, she remained oblivious to the intruders she’d nearly encountered.

“Let’s go,” Killian ordered shortly thereafter, and they resumed their search.

Finally, after another ten minutes of searching, they came upon the library.

Far more ornate than any other room they’d encountered so far, the library boasted heavy velvet drapes over stately, faceted windows. Bookcases, ceiling high, lined the walls.

While his men instantly fell to tearing apart the room for the wand, Killian couldn’t help but wander to the bookcases and admire the old volumes. What these beauties wouldn’t look like stacked in his quarters, waiting for perusal.

But they were not why he was here, after all.

Joining Cecco and Smee in the hunt, Killian tore cushions loose, looked under sofas and chairs, and even examined the floorboards; yet after what felt like an extended period of time, they had turned up nothing for all their efforts.

“Why exactly did Mim think the wand was in here?” Smee finally asked.

Shining the flashlight on himself, Killian found a handkerchief in his jacket and swiped at some particulate that had soiled his vest during one of his ventures under the furniture. “She claimed the head fairy – the Blue fairy – was very possessive of her spell and research books. She felt that one guarded item might well be stored among others.”

“Sounds like faulty reasoning, t’me,” Cecco snorted, then added a curse and kicked the foot of a sofa. “Wastin’ time in here.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Killian sighed, refolding the bit of cloth and returning it to his pocket. “Maybe we should stop thinking like fairies, and start thinking like pirates, aye?”

Cecco’s gold teeth glimmered as Smee’s beam of light crossed his face. “What you have in mind’ Cap’t?”

“If you were hiding something of value, where would you store it? Out in the open, or with you?”

“I’d keep it with me, of course. Right in my bunk!” Smee seemed inordinately proud of his obvious answer, but Killian didn’t belittle him.

“Right you are, Mr. Smee. So, what must we do?”

“One of us can cause a ruckus down ‘ere,” Cecco elaborated. “Seems the girl what was in the kitchen earlier was headed for the staircase, so the quarters is probably all upstairs. When they hear the noise, those fairies’ll all run down ‘ere. The other two men can use that distraction to search the room belonging to boss fairy. Me ’n Smee knows which one is Mother Superior. So-”

“So one of you will have to come with me upstairs, to point out which room she emerges from. Good work, Mr. Cecco.” Killian had no question in his mind that he would be one of the searchers. That wand would be leaving the convent in his hand, and his hand only.

“I can cause the distraction,” Smee offered. “I’ll wait till you guys are upstairs, then throw some things around. Something noisy, like pots and pans in the kitchen, and then I’ll hightail it out the window. Sound good?”

“Aye. We’ll meet back at the Jolly, and then bring Mim her wand.”

Extinguishing their flashlights, Cecco and Killian located the staircase and padded up the steps, then took their places behind an ensconced sculpture with a particularly large base. From this vantage point, close to the main stairwell, they could see down most of the corridors.

It did not take Smee long to enact his vandalism. Crashes and clanging rang from the first floor, and the fairies responded as Killian imagined they might. Inside the rooms, footsteps stumbled, lights burst from the gloom, and doors flew open.

Most of the women seemed to share dormitories, as they were exiting in pairs, but at the end of one of the hallways, a woman emerged from her room alone.

Cecco tapped his shoulder and pointed, though Killian wouldn’t have needed him to. Curly hair piled high on her head, lofty gaze searching the commotion for a guilty party, the woman in the blue nightgown was clearly in charge.

“Mother Superior, what is going on?” Killian recognized the voice as belonging to the fairy with the late night hunger pangs and forbidden conversations.

“I do not know, Nova. We’ll go investigate, then call the sheriff, if necessary.” Beckoning to her ladies, the head fairy led a procession down the staircase.

With the second floor was devoid of nuns, Killian and Cecco maneuvered from their hiding spot and crept into Blue’s room.

Beneficially, she had left her overhead lamp shining. Even so, there was not much to see in the bedroom, apart from an oil painting on the wall, a bed, and a nightstand. Happily, this meant less clutter to dig through.

Going directly for the nightstand, Killian opened the single drawer and instantly saw it.

Inside the space sat a small, angular glass case, with a purple cushion and miniature supporting pedestals at each end, just the right size and shape to house a wand.

It was utterly empty.

“Maybe..I’ve been thinking, David, maybe Zelena’s spell did something to Neal! She needed his innocence. Maybe it was somehow...permanently taken away.”

“Snow, I don’t think so. Regina’s heart is just fine, and considering the size of that spider I killed in the bathroom when I got up this morning, I’m pretty sure I still have my courage.” David was joking, but his wife wasn’t having it.

“It wasn’t that big,” Mary Margaret pointed out, slapping some pancakes on Emma’s plate.

Emma took hold of her glass of orange juice and closed her eyes. Too tired to go all the way back home after the previous night’s get-together, she’d broken every pediatrician’s rule and slept in her old bed with Ariadne beside her. Now she was probably going to be caught in the middle of her parents’ debate.

“Snow, I think we just have to accept that Neal is having problems, and we have to help him overcome them, instead of making up excuses!” David left the stove top and shoveled scrambled eggs under Emma’s nose.

“That is not what I am doing!” Mary Margaret scowled and used her spatula to stab at the bacon on her griddle with a vengeance. “I mean, this is how I am trying to help him! Emma, what do you think?”

There it was. Emma noised as vaguely as possible, holding her glass to her mouth and taking the longest recorded swig in history.

Ariadne, seated in Emma’s lap, began reaching up to the plate for pancakes. At last conceding her juice, Emma pulled the baby’s hand away. “No, kid. What would you do with those? You don’t even have your teeth yet. Besides, you ate the second we woke up.”

“Dee!” Neal, close to Emma in his high chair, was smearing yogurt over his face, fixated on the younger child across from him.

Praising her brother with a smile, she agreed, “Yeah, it’s Adi, isn’t it? Your niece. Can you say niece?”

“Eee!”

David gasped. “He said it! I think?”

To Emma’s ears, the jury was out on whether Neal had said a new word or just repeated Adi’s name, but if it redirected her mom and dad’s conflict...”Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Neal giggled. Even if he was a troublemaker, Emma couldn’t help but think he was awfully cute, with his light blue eyes and blond pin curls.

Triumphant at his accomplishment, Neal tossed the rest of his yogurt on the floor in celebration.

“Nice one,” Henry praised, yawning into a bite of pancakes. He then rolled his neck around, probably to offset the soreness that came from sleeping on the couch.

“Oh, Neal,” Mary Margaret groaned. “I have to get to class!”

Taking over the skillet for his wife, David kissed her temple. “I’m off today, remember? I’ll take care of it. We’ll worry about the Neal stuff later. I love you.”

Mary Margaret gave him the adoring look that made Emma stare deeply into her breakfast food instead. “I love you, too. I’m sorry about earlier. See you this afternoon.”

After Snow was out the door, David unplugged the appliance. “This bacon is finally done. Who wants some?”

“I’ll take a couple to go, if that is okay,” Henry said, clearing his dishes and grabbing his backpack from a hook on the wall. “I gotta get to school.”

“Here you go. Wrap them in a napkin; they’re hot,” David warned.

“Yup. Bye, guys,” Henry said, and then to his mother, he implored, “Hey, Mom? If Hook gets his memories back today...”

“I will come get you from school, asap. Promise.”

“Thanks,” Henry responded gratefully, and then he, too, was gone.

Turning his best ‘cool dad’ grin on Emma, David twirled the spatula like a baton. “Well, it’s just you and me, Emma. Whaddya think? Movie marathon?”

Winking at him, Emma replied, “I, uh, think you just got grease all over the walls there, Rachael Ray.” Wolfing down some of her food, she continued, “Anyway, I’d love that, but I can’t. I have to get to the station. You know how it goes: your day off is my day on duty.”

“Right,” David lamented. “Too bad. Will you be leaving Adi here, then?”

Taking her napkin, Emma dabbed at Neal’s yogurt encrusted face. “If you feel like babysitting; otherwise, I’ll take her in with me.”

“I’d love to have her. Y-”

Emma stopped talking as somebody wildly pounded on the door. She and David traded a look, and without exchanging words, they somehow agreed she would be the one to answer it. Passing Ariadne to her father, she went to the apartment threshold.

Emma pulled the door open to reveal Graham, panting and agitated. “There you are! Where is your phone?” He didn’t sound accusatory, just distressed.

“It’s upstairs charging, what -”

Brushing past her into the apartment, Graham rambled, “I tried to text you. I’m so glad I finally found you. I went to your house, and -”

Emma had heard enough. “Graham, slow down. What is going on?”

Finally calming himself enough to explain, Graham grimaced. “I went to the station early. Blackbeard is missing. He’s not in his cell.”

Chapter Text

She is calling to him, his love. “Killian? Wake up!”

He recognizes that voice, knows it like his own heart, because the person from whose lips his name spills forth is his heart.

“Wake up, Killian!” His pulse is beating to the cadence of her words, and he knows in that moment that if she needs him for anything, then, by everything he has left to give, she shall have him.

“Yes,” he tries to say, “Yes, my love, I am here.”

Killian’s eyes fluttered open, and he was astonished to find Swan in his quarters, standing above his bed, shaking his shoulder to wake him. An outsized, dotted bag was balanced on one of her hips and Ariadne was perched on the other, wearing a little knit cap and wool jacket. The baby was staring curiously down at him while clutching what looked like a cloth.

He’d thought Emma was Milah. Or, he had assumed...

“What?” he mumbled stupidly, sorting through his sleep-addled mind.

Ah, yes. His failure at the convent. Going back to Mim empty handed, and being disdainfully rebuffed when he’d proffered another effort. The rage of knowing that not even threats could help summon her magic. Coming back to his cabin, going for his rum, and...

“What?” Killian repeated, this time sourly, sitting up and propping himself against a pillow. He did not care for the feeling of vulnerability he was experiencing, lying there before her only half awake. It did not do anything for his image. He hadn’t quite reached the point of intoxication, yet he did not feel wonderful, either. His vest was thrown haphazardly across the back of one of the cabin’s chairs, and his hook was on the ledge above the bed, but apart from that he was still wearing the rest of yesterday’s garments. Swan must think him absolutely slovenly. “How did you get past my men?”

As if in commiseration over his sorry state, Ariadne helpfully dropped her blanket piece onto his lap.

“I told them I was coming to see you, and they could try to stop me if they wanted.” Swan slid her bag to the floorboards, hefted her little miss, and sat on the edge of the bunk, next to his legs. “I didn’t have any takers.”

“Fantastic.” Killian raked some hair out of his eyes. “As useless excuses for pirates as ever. Remind me to find menial tasks for them to do later. What do you want?”

“Where is Blackbeard?” she asked warningly, slitting her eyes. It was the first time since the portal that she had examined him without that pure happiness brightening her face. He found he wasn’t enjoying it.

Killian wanted to tease and flirt with her about the commanding note in her voice, but with the baby there it just seemed inappropriate. “There is the Swan I remember from the Enchanted Forest. Regardless, I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

Warningly, Emma said, “Stop it, Killian. Yesterday you wanted to get rid of him, and this morning he’s not in his cell. Care to explain?”

So often was he at fault, it was an interesting diversion to be honest when denying guilt. “I am afraid you have the wrong culprit this time, my dear. I will freely admit I was out all night, but I would swear an oath I was not anywhere near your brig.”

“Yeah, with your mystery date, I’m sure,” Emma said, swallowing hard, as if trying to force down emotion. There was a hint of bitterness, but he heard pain foremost, and she couldn’t even look at him as she said it.

Something about her turmoil tugged at him, and yet again, he found himself comforting her. What was it about this woman that pulled at him so? “Fear not, Swan. My endeavors proved unsuccessful. I offended her, and she tossed me out of her establishment before anything could happen between us.” In an odd sort of way, it was the truth. Their partnership had not even lasted the evening.

“Really?” Swan was trying to sound blasé, and failing most miserably.

“Most assuredly.” Muted headache plaguing his concentration, Killian managed to wink at her. “So, you can be on your way, to find your escaped prisoner. And I can continue to rest, and ameliorate my bruised ego.”

With a humorless laugh, she squeezed his knee. “Oh, buddy. That’s cute. But you’re not getting out of this that easily. I know you were up to something last night.”

“Well, unless you find proof, I feel it’s only fair you allow me some rest,” Killian grumbled, sinking to his elbows. “If you truly want to find out where Blackbeard is, why not utilize your...” What had Cecco called them? “Cameras?”

Approvingly, Emma said, “Look at that. One day back and he’s already relearning technology terms. Yeah, we thought of that. Graham’s checking it out right now. I stopped here first, for my favorite suspect.” Getting to her feet and collecting a flimsy tray with equally flimsy cups from the table, Emma then returned to her spot on the bed. “Here, I even brought you coffee. But you are going to tell me what’s going on. Oh, hey -” Casting about the cabin, Emma wondered, “First, what did you do with the crib and everything else?”

“I disposed of them,” Killian answered, puzzling over the coffee lid and its strange little hole. Was he supposed to drink through it, or remove it entirely?

“What!? Killian, I probably spent over a thousand dollars on that stuff!”

“Then next time, don’t leave your valuables on another person’s property, particularly when said property belongs to a pirate. They tend to disappear.” Yes, he concluded; he was indeed supposed to drink without removing the lid. Cautiously, he took a sip. Perfection. The exact thing he needed to counteract the aftereffects of the rum.

Swan emitted a frustrated gargle, then sipped at her own beverage. “Well, I guess I’d rather have you here than still have all that stuff. Just the same, could you maybe not-”

A loud, warbling klaxon resounded through the cabin, and Killian immediately abandoned his drink to grab his cutlass, ready if necessary to defend Emma, the baby, and himself, all while he looked for the origin of the sound.

“It’s just my phone, Killian. It’s all right,” Swan told him, and he instantly felt ridiculous.

Without forewarning him, Swan lay the baby between his shins, facing her so her toes were pointing in the same direction as his own. “Here, watch her for a second.” Before he could protest, she had removed a small square from her pocket, stood, and traveled to the corner of the room to speak into the device. “Hello? Graham?”

At a loss, Killian placed the sword away from him and scratched behind his ear. What did one say to a baby? “Hey, there. I don’t suppose you like coffee, do you?” he asked, flummoxed.

Seeking the source of his voice, Ariadne craned her neck back and observed him from upside down. After considering him, she smiled wide and began breathing nosily and excitedly, punching at the air without coordination, for seemingly no reason.

Killian wondered what it meant. “You’re a peculiar little thing,” he commented wryly, pulling a face at her. This made Ariadne’s wheezing dissolve into an uncoordinated burst of laughter, which at first startled him.

“That’s funny, is it?” Recovering the toy that she’d dumped on him, a small, soft square of cloth with a fuzzy caricature of a lion’s head attached to it, Killian dangled it above Ariadne temptingly. “Mind what I told your mother about pirates, love. You wouldn’t want to see your little plaything disappear, would you?”

Ariadne clearly cared little for what he was saying, grabbing the lion from him, and then gnawing on its ‘mane’.

With his thumb, he wiped away a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth, the gesture coming almost instinctively. The babe’s skin was impossibly soft.

Was it really possible she was his?

He leaned back, as if away from the thought. He couldn’t afford to frame the question that way. ‘Had he fathered the child?’ was much more conducive to his mentality. Besides, now that his deal with Mim was nullified, he might not ever receive an unbiased, definitive answer. Maybe it was for the best to let it go. Nothing so pure and innocent could come from him.

The only thing left for him was to give Milah her justice. Somehow, he had to convince Mim to give him a second chance.

Desiring more coffee, he reached for the tray where he’d left it.

The disposable receptacle, constructed for four beverages, was supposed to hold the cups in place. Killian noticed that the spots that had nestled his and Swan’s drinks were slightly indented from wear. But a third holder had clearly also been utilized.

Who was the other recipient of Emma’s generosity?

“...Okay. Bye.” Swan, ending her conversation, returned to his side. “Graham went over the tapes. Blackbeard got out on his own, at about eleven last night.”

“And you said I wasn’t telling you the truth,” Killian scolded her playfully. “I do believe you owe me an apology, Swan.”

“That said,” she proceeded, pretending she hadn’t heard him, “Mother Superior left a message at the station saying her library was ransacked. Know anything about that?”

“No. I am a pirate,” he answered glibly. “What interest would I have in a library?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know like, ten dead languages. Are you sure you weren’t trying to maybe steal a spell book to help you find Rumpelstiltskin?”

“I have no magical inclinations, Swan. Surely you know this.” Ariadne flung the cloth away again, and Killian dutifully replaced it in her hands. “What good would a spell book do me? I wasn’t there.”

“You’re lying.”

He hadn’t expected Swan to so blatantly scorn what he’d avowed, although he should have remembered sooner their first meeting, when she’d warned him of her intuition respecting untruths. They locked eyes.

“My lovely Emma, you cannot prove anything.”

“Maybe not yet, but I could arrest you.”

“Again?” Killian smirked. “Any more, Swan, and I would think people might start to talk.”

He thought he would incur her wrath, but she heaved a great, weary sigh and sank to the bed again. “I miss you. You’re here, but I miss you.” As if unable to express herself further verbally, she reached out and ran her fingers though his hair.

In almost three hundred years, hadn’t felt so tender a touch. Everything human left in him wanted to close his eyes and lean into her hands, accept the spark of intimacy as her gentle fingers trailed down to smooth his face.

“So, what happens now?” he asked, knowing full well that by speaking, he’d ruined the moment. “Will you really bring me in?”

“I should,” she conceded, dropping her hands into her lap. “But like you said, I would need proof, and right now I have different priority. So, I have another suggestion. Help me find Blackbeard.”

“What makes you think I’d have any idea of his whereabouts?”

“You know him,” she pointed out.

Killian grimaced. “That does not mean I ever desired to acquaint myself with his habits.”

“Well, guess what? I’ve known him less than twenty four hours, and I already figured one out.” Spinning a finger to designate the cabin about her, Emma went on, “Getting this ship. Do you really want to have to keep your guard up every second of the day, or do you want to nip this in the bud?”

“I thought you said you already put a protection spell on the ship.”

“And I told you the truth, but I took it down after Blackbeard was locked up. I didn’t see the point, especially when your crew was going back and forth constantly. Tell you what, help me with this, and I will do you one better. I’ll seal it with blood magic. Your blood. Nobody, not even me, will be able to board without your permission.”

Killian pretended to think about it. “All I have to do is join your scavenger hunt, and you’ll fortify my ship, and not arrest me?”

“Think of it as a community service.”

Killian snorted. “The only service I have provided for the community before is inspiring them to fortify their buildings to prevent plundering.” Not that he had ever actually allowed his crew to loot a civilian town, but his reputation did tend to make people think the worst.

Ariadne gurgled from her spot near his knees, beaming at him with a gummy smile, and Killian almost smiled back. She didn’t think the worst of him. In fact, she truly seemed to like him, with no motives attached. Or she liked his necklace, at the very least.

“Liar. What about when you were in the navy?”

Attention instantly taken from the baby, Killian whipped his head to face Emma. “Who told you that?” Only Starkey and Jukes remained from the original crew. Without question, his money was on Starkey.

“You did, Killian. You joined along with Liam,” she replied casually, as though it were common knowledge. “After you two got shipwrecked.”

Starkey did not know that last detail.

“I...I accept your offer. I will help you find Blackbeard,” he forced out, fighting to maintain a neutral expression. Emma’s story was corroborating itself more and more with each conversation they held. He had barely even spoken to Milah about Liam, the pain of his loss still too fresh at the time. The only way Swan could know was if he’d told her.

Unless somehow she had used her magic to divine his past.

“Killain, are you okay?”

“Absolutely,” retorted brusquely.

“Uh – Okay, then. Glad to have you on the team again. I need to make one more call.” Digging in her enormous bag, Emma extracted a small hairbrush with overly soft bristles and slapped it into Killian’s palm. “Here. Brush her hair for me, so we can get going sooner. We had to fly out of the loft this morning, and everybody gives me enough grief about her hair as it is.”

This was too much. “But I don’t-”

Swan was already on her talking square again, apparently with her father.

Like surveying an enemy rampart, Killian shifted around, viewing Ariadne from several different angles, each more overwhelming than the last. At last, he slid off her hat and set to work.

The man who was supposed to be the fiercest terror of the high seas was brushing a baby’s hair.

As he smoothed and worked the dark locks around, Killian almost remembered the lyrics to an old child’s song, heard long ago. Under his breath, he hummed it instead.

By the time he had the little head tamed, Emma was finished speaking with the prince, and was standing over them with surprise. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” Killian asked.

“Wow as in, you did an amazing job. She looks...like a real baby, and not a hair monster.”

Nettled on the infant’s behalf, Killian said, “She looked fine before. As to my hair styling abilities, I do quite well with my own, if I do say so myself. Why wouldn’t I be able to with hers?”

Emma shrugged and shouldered her baby bag. “Fair enough. We had better get going.” Snugging the hat over Ariadne’s head again, she chatted to her daughter. “Sorry to destroy the ‘do, kid, but you gotta stay warm outside. Babies can’t regulate their temperature very well.”

“Wait. Swan...” Handing the brush back, Killian thought a moment before phrasing what he wanted to say. “She’s really a credit to you. I can tell you have done well by her.”

He could have sworn Swan blushed. “I am really glad you believe that. But I can’t take all that credit. Adi’s really easy. She’s so happy all the time, smiles a lot. Constantly wants to snuggle. And she loves people, she loves them. Like, everybody. Sometimes -” She paused, pensively. “Sometimes I imagine she is exactly what her father was probably like, before life had beaten him down the way it did.”

“Who is her father?” Why couldn’t he keep the resolve to put this behind him? It benefited nobody, least of all the child.

Emma fidgeted. “ Ah...could we maybe talk about this later? When we have some more time?”

“No, I would like to hear your answer now,” Killian replied stubbornly, setting his jaw. “If you please, Swan.”

“Have it your way.” Emma snapped, then quickly cringed at her own statement. “Great. That isn’t how I pictured this conversation starting. Let me try again.”

Killian wanted to ask her outright, but instead waited for her to collect herself and draw her courage. A revelation like this had to be made because she wished to offer the information. If she changed her mind, he would not further press her.

“Remember how I said we were together a year ago? Well, her...her father is you.” Laughing nervously, Emma folded her arms. “And if our roles are reversed, right now you would be telling me something beautiful, like how our belief in each other made her possible, but I, I’m bad at that kind of thing.”

Killian didn’t say anything, and for a moment, all that could be heard was the indistinct creaking of the ship.

“You seem really not surprised by this,” Emma finally said, even more uneasily.

“It’s all right Swan, I had it figured out yesterday. The only thing I am surprised by is that you didn’t inform me sooner.”

“That was wrong,” Emma admitted, lifting the baby. “But I was waiting for you to be a bit more receptive. You didn’t even seem to like the idea of us.”

“Trust me, Swan, you are not undesirable in the least,” Killian remarked before thinking the statement through.

“Are you saying that you finally believe me?”

Killian wavered. “I don’t know. What I do know is that you shouldn’t want it to be true. Remember, I am a villain, Swan. Not long ago, in the Queen’s tower, I attacked an innocent person, a young maid who couldn’t even fight back.”

“I think I know who you are talking about,” Emma said. “Yeah, that was pretty horrible, not gonna disagree. No way will I defend it. If you’re wondering, though, she forgave you; and the two of you even became friends. And guess what? Before I came to Storybrooke, I slammed a guy’s face into a wheel, for no real reason except he was ticking me off. People can change. You did. You can be a part of something. Again. We can start by going and finding Blackbeard.”

Killian flexed his hand, then found his hook and locked it in place. “I said I’d help you. But Swan, I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

“That isn’t what I want at all. I want you to be the man you want to be.” After adjusting the baby one last time, Emma held out her hand to help him up off the bed. “Let’s get this ship sealed with blood magic. Then we can go.”

One year ago

The Underworld

“So I might have a way to get you into Hades’ dungeon,” Graham said, scooping up a cloth doll from the kitchen counter, turning it back and forth confusedly, and then placing it back where he’d found it.

“Hades has a dungeon?” Robin wondered.

Regina inclined her head favorably. “Well done, Huntsman. You always were innovative.”

“I do not seek your approval, Highness,” Graham responded tightly, and Emma’s house was filled with an uneasy hush. “Besides, it’s not thanks to me. Early this morning, I was taking a walk in the woods, to ease my mind. I ran into a young girl who had just escaped Hades’ clutches.”

The room exploded into questions, and Emma stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled for quiet. “Please! Let’s let him finish.”

When everybody was settled, Graham explained, “Her name is Meg. She said she escaped with the help of a man with a hook. A man that told her to find Emma.”

A whimper, somewhere between joy and relief and desperation, sounded from the bottom of Emma’s throat.

Mary Margaret took her daughter’s hand and held it fast. “You see? We can do this.”

“She was very, very frightened, and I didn’t want to put her under any more undue stress, but she showed me where she’d exited the dungeon.”

“So we can backtrack to Hook,” Robin reasoned. “That will help speed things up.”

Henry offered him a fist bump, to which Robin did not how to react. In turning to David, Henry was able to receive the desired response to his celebratory gesture, and he then spoke excitedly to his mother. “What are we waiting for?”

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

Present Day

After waiting on the deck of the Jolly while Killian pulled himself together and got ready in his cabin, Emma brought him to the sheriff’s station, where they found Graham already hard at work.

The deputy was busy reviewing more video footage; this time of the feed from the outside of the building and surrounding property, to see which direction Blackbeard had gone after his escape from the cell.

David, however, had not yet arrived.

While they waited, Emma took Ariadne to join Graham in the office, leaving Killian to sit at one of the desks near the cells, poking and prodding at a computer wonderingly while at the same time complaining about it vigorously.

Shutting off the footage to join her at the door, Graham said, sounding impressed, “Hey. You got him to come help.” Then he lifted the corners of his mouth knowingly. “I should have known.”

“What do you mean?” Emma ran her nose across Ariadne’s cap, leaving little kisses in her wake, while staring at her friend in confusion. She wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to be insulted or flattered.

Graham was quick to give an explanation, lest she misunderstand. “It’s who you are. You’re good at it, helping people live up to their potential. Must be the savior thing.” Cradling her elbow in his hand, he pulled her further away from the office door, and from Killian, for a more private conversation.

Leaning close, he spoke again. “Anyway...what about Gold? I know you were worried yesterday...”

Emma didn’t immediately answer and he lightly compressed her arm, encouraging her to speak.

Fighting the sickening dread that had haunted her all of yesterday, Emma groaned. “After you left the loft, I stopped by his cell long enough to give him a coffee and breakfast sandwich. He probably was taunting me about the baby again. I didn’t stick around to listen.”

Graham lifted Ariadne’s cap from where it had slid over her eyes. “It’s probably best that you ignored him. Maybe David or Snow or I could deal with him for a few weeks – or at least until we have the Blackbeard case resolved.”

“No,” Emma disagreed. “No. I appreciate the concern, but that is just confirming to Rumpelstiltskin that he can still intimidate us from behind those bars. I can’t let that happen.”

Graham gave an admiring nod. “Then we won’t. Just wanted to let you know you have the option.”

His hand went from Ariadne’s cap to Emma’s shoulder, and she felt it like a great weight rather than the affectionate gesture it was meant to be.

Even if she didn’t love him, she cared deeply about Graham; truly, she did. In the year he’d been back, he’d never pushed her, or even hinted that he wanted more. He’d seemed to instinctively understood she wasn’t over Killian; and as far as his support as a work partner and caring friend to both her and her family, Emma couldn’t have asked for anything better.

But still it had been there between them, his unasked question, all those months. Maybe, given enough time, she could have even followed Killian’s last request and kept her walls down enough to give Graham a chance.

However, she hadn’t ever reached that point, and in her own life Emma had learned over and over again the misery of not being chosen.

God, she didn’t want to hurt Graham. He was a good man – and aside from that it would be like kicking a puppy.

False hope, though, was worse.

So, it was with a warm but passionless smile that Emma simply told him. “Thank you,” and moved straight to business. “I called my dad. He is dropping my brother off at Belle’s, and he’ll then be joining us in the search. The dwarfs...” Emma worked to suppress a shudder. “...wanted to pitch in, too. Don’t ask me why.”

If he was pained by Emma’s clinical attitude, Graham didn’t give any outward signs. He did, however, lean back against the desk, giving her some space. “Guess David won’t get his day off, after all. But that’s good; we could use all the help we can get. Especially since Blue called again.”

“Great. What did she want this time?”

“She says a wand is missing.”

A jolt of fear hit Emma. She had only seen what a wand’s power could do a handful of times before, but that was enough to know that they contained some major firepower. “A wand?”

“It was stored in a different part of the convent than where the vandalism happened, and she didn’t notice before now because she was overseeing the cleanup.” Clicking his tongue, Graham added, “Should we assume that whoever broke in also stole the wand? You said you saw Gold this morning, so it couldn’t have been him, but it had to have been someone who could wield magic, right? It would be pretty useless in the average person’s hands.”

“Or hand,” Emma muttered scathingly, eying her pirate through the glass. “I knew he was lying to me.”

Graham followed her line of sight. “You think Hook did this?” he asked blankly. “But why? How would it benefit him?”

“That’s the million dollar question, all right.” A strong odor assaulted Emma’s nostrils before she could say more. “Ugh. Ariadne, you stink bomb. Did you have to do that now?”

Graham was already opening desk drawers, taking out a diaper, wipes, changing mat and powder without even being asked. “So, who is changing the diaper, and who is questioning the subject?”

“We could probably get both done at once by threatening the subject with said diaper duty unless he talks,” Emma professed.

“That would be an...interesting method.”

She snorted. “I wasn’t being serious. You want to go try and question him, be my guest.”

Resolute, Graham said with quiet self-assurance, “I think I’ll give it a try. People don’t get under my skin too easily. As long as he doesn’t stab me with the hook, how bad could it be?” He gave a little grin at his own humor.

Graham may have been confident, but Emma knew for a fact that if Killian Jones decided he wanted to aggravate someone, not even gods were immune to his pain-in-the-butt tendencies. “Good luck.” Unable to disguise her small chuckle, Emma watched the deputy leave the office, then turned to the task of changing Ariadne.

The baby made a minimal fuss over the unpleasantness, only squirming once the cold wipes began to clean her bottom. “Good girl, we’re almost done,” Emma praised her, sliding Ariadne’s clothing back into place and kissing her forehead just as she heard Graham’s tone deepening, barely noticeably, from outside the office.

She didn’t hear what Killian said back, but Graham’s voice hardened further, which made Killian repeat something similar, with the identical inflection.

Graham sputtered.

“Here we go,” Emma told Ariadne in a singsong as the huntsman returned to the office, his cheekbones and ears tinged an angry pink.

“Okay, new plan,” Graham announced. “I’ll watch Adi, and you question him.”

Biting her lip to contain more laughter, Emma nodded, grabbing the dirty diaper. “I won’t be long.”

Killian was still seated and busy smirking to himself when Emma stepped in front of him. “Alright, Hook, get up. We’re going for a little walk.”

He stood. “As you wish, love.”

Before the statement could start her heart fluttering, Killian was grimacing and backing away. “Bloody – what is that stench?”

“Baby surprise.” Emma showed him the diaper. “We’re going to go throw it out back in the dumpster, so it doesn’t spread through the whole station.”

“A soiled baby napkin. Just what was on my agenda this morning.” Killian began following her, albeit at some distance.

“So where is the wand, Killian?” Emma asked as they stepped into the weak, hazy sunshine.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“A wand went missing at the convent last night.

“A wand?” He dragged out the word. “Last time I checked, I was not a fairy godmother, love. I don’t need a wand.”

“Why were you at the convent, then?”

“I never really said I was.”

Emma lifted the dumpster lid, tossed the diaper within its metal sides, and slammed the top down again. “I know you were. So, let’s just skip that part of the argument and get to the part where you stop lying to me. To tell you the truth, I hope it was you. Because if you didn’t steal that wand, then that means someone else did, and we are all in serious trouble. You and your crew included.”

Killian finally showed a strain of seriousness as he thought about her words. “Very well. I was at the convent last night. The mess the fairies found was caused by myself and two of my crew. But I swear on the memory of my brother, we did not steal the wand.”

Even if he hadn’t sworn on Liam, Emma could sense the truth in his statement. She cursed once, loudly, and viciously kicked the dumpster. All that did was hurt her foot

“Impressive, Swan. I think you’ve given that receptacle a new dent.” Killian noted.

“So now we have a missing pirate and a missing wand.” Emma braced her arm against the lid of the dumpster in frustration before deciding she could probably pick a better spot to think than a rusty, reeking trash bin. “Let’s go back inside.”

They returned to the station and Emma scrubbed her hands clean in the bathroom, then sent a quick text to her father about the lost wand.

Where would she even start?

Then it came to her. Mother Superior.

The fairy had to have at least some clue as to who wanted the wand. In fact, Emma wouldn’t be surprised if the overly efficient and orderly fairy had a dossier on every magic user in town.

Emma needed to get her statement about the theft anyway; it would be a perfect time to ask.

But the thought that it could have somehow been Gold clung to her. What if the Dark One had hired somebody?

No, it didn’t make sense. If Gold was in contact with somebody willing to help him, he wouldn’t need a wand. He’d just have the lackey remove the inhibiting cuff and release him from the cell. Unless the theoretical person couldn’t get through the added precaution of the magical barrier she’d put in front of the bars.

Emma crumpled her paper towel furiously. Gold was causing her to over-analyze everything, making her feel crazy, all because of his veiled threats to Ariadne.

Well, she was going to find that wand, and if Gold was involved, he would regret it. He targeted her kid, he was going down.

No more screwing around.

Back in the heart of the station, Killian was waiting quietly – for once- picking up on the nuances of her mood, as he always did. “We’ll find the wand, Swan. And Blackbeard. If you can wrest a compass from a giant, this is nothing.”

Emma felt herself relax, infinitesimally. “Yeah, well...Thanks. But I still have no idea where to start looking.”

Killian hesitated, as if vacillating on whether he wanted to share something with her. In the end, he gave her a smirk. “For Blackbeard? Where is Storybrooke’s nearest brothel?”

“Killian,” Emma groaned, sagging against the desk nearest him. She didn’t know how to convince him to tell her whatever it was he was hiding, but she had to try. “Please. I need your help right now. If you know anything...”

Killian stared at the ceiling, very clearly emotionally distancing himself from her. “I said I would go help you look.”

Before she could cajole him, the station’s main entrance door swung open, and in tumbled seven dwarfs, followed by David.

“I’m telling you, if a wand is missing? The whole town could be obliterated! Is everybody forgetting the tornado Zelena was able to conjure over Granny’s?”

“We wanted her to do that, Grumpy!” Bashful pointed out, then blushed furiously for speaking up.

Expounding his dramatics, Leroy shouted, “Yeah, but she was still able to do it! What if some wizard or sorceress decides to send Storybrooke into the heart of the ogre’s land, or to the bottom of Misthaven’s sea, or-”

“There’s no reason to panic everybody,” Happy beamed with positivity. “We don’t even know if it’s been stolen or not. It could have just been misplaced!”

Emma felt her teeth clash together. It was difficult enough for her to deal with the dwarfs on a good day, and this was far from it. Before she could say something she would later regret, though, Killian did it for her.

“Who are you fools, and why are you talking?”

The dwarfs bumped into each other as they stopped short, staring at Killian in amazement.

“You really are alive! I thought it was just a rumor,” Leroy yelled excitably. “Good. We need your help, pal. Get up already you two, we need to get going.”

With almost inhuman speed, Killian flew to his feet, sending dwarfs scattering in every direction.

“Nobody gives me orders, dwarf!” he spat with a leonine snarl, and Emma knew Leroy had inadvertently struck one of his deepest nerves.

Killian did not take well to the thought of being controlled, particularly by somebody he didn’t know or respect, and for good reason. He’d told her a bit about his childhood-not much, but enough for her to read between the lines.

Intercepting the pirate, Emma grasped the leather of his jacket and struggled to hold him. “Killian? Hey, look at me.” She repeated it until he met her gaze, and gradually, the ferocity in his eyes diluted into mere annoyance. “Ignore him, all right?”

Noticeably shaken, Grumpy decided to open his mouth anyway. “What’s his problem?”

“Not helping, Leroy.” Gesturing to her father, Emma said, “Dad, can you take them into the office? Like, now? Graham is in there with Adi, he can catch you up on the situation.”

“Uh, yeah, we’re going.” David quickly herded the dwarfs away, sending Emma a cautionary glance as he did so.

When they had cleared the room, Killian removed her hands from his jacket. “Swan, if you are going to lecture me -”

“I’m not. Forget about Leroy. I just want to know...” Emma considered going about it in a subtle way, but in the end decided that he might be more receptive to directness. “Is there something about last night you’re not telling me?”

His eyes swept to the side.

“Something about the wand, I mean?” she specified. “We could really use any information you might have.”

Instantly, he was on the defensive. “Oh? Since we’re asking questions again, how about this: Who was the extra coffee cup for this morning? Why did you look like you’d seen a wraith yesterday at the station when you’d come back from your ‘errand’? Why are you scared for the baby?”

Emma’s mouth fell open. She shouldn’t have been aghast at his intuition, but even so, that was a lot he’d discerned in the last day. Even for him. He must have been paying closer attention to her and Ariadne than she’d realized.

“You’re right, about all of it. I can’t tell you the reason why. I’m sorry. Not yet...” Her voice weakened at the end, knowing how flimsy it sounded.

Tilting his head, Killian casually commented, “Do you know what I cannot understand? You claim we have a history, that we were close. And yet, you clearly don’t have any trust in me. Curious, that.”

“It’s not about trust. I’m trying to protect you,” Emma told him raggedly. “I just got you back. I don’t want-”

She didn’t want him messing around with Rumple, especially with Ariadne potentially in the balance.

“- I don’t want to see you hurt.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment she saw her Killian in his expression. She’d caught him off guard; he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer like that.

“When your memories are restored, I will tell you everything. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

David joined them again, having left the dwarfs with Graham. “Hey. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You’re fine, Dad. So what’s the plan?”

“Well, if you’re okay with it, we thought I would take the dwarfs and look for Blackbeard. You and Graham and Hook can search for the wand, you being a magic user and all.”

Emma gave him a lopsided grin. “Numbers seem to be in your favor, Dad.”

“Want a dwarf or two?”

“I was thinking Mom, or Regina,” Emma suggested. “Mom’s a good tracker, and Regina is good at getting answers.”

“Snow is at work, and I am not sure she could count ‘Wand Hunting’ as a legitimate extracurricular activity for her students. Roland and Zeph are running high fevers, so Regina, Robin and Zelena are kind of occupied.”

Concerned, Emma said, “The kids seemed fine last night. Are they going to be okay?”

“Hopefully. Zelena wanted to use healing magic, but Robin and Regina preferred to let it run its course, as long as it doesn’t become too dangerous. Something about building immunity.”

Relieved to hear that the children were not at death’s door, Emma began to wonder if Ariadne was going to catch whatever they had.

“Ahem,” Killian interjected. “The wand?”

“I wish Ruby were here,” Emma sighed in frustration. “She was a terrific tracker, too. Even better than Mom.”

“Well, she’s happily in Oz right now, so we’ll have to settle with who we have available.” David glanced over his shoulder at the office, then said, “I was thinking Lily.”

Emma folded her arms. “Lily? Why?” she asked, puzzled.

“In her dragon form, she can cover a lot of ground, very quickly. We could theoretically find Blackbeard in half the time. Then, I can jump in and help you guys.”

“Do you think she’d do it?” Emma asked doubtfully. Her former friend wasn’t antagonistic any longer, but she never acted as though she wanted to be involved in town matters.

“Why not ask? Couldn’t hurt, right?”

“ ‘Dragon form’?” Killian broke in with genuine delight. “I, for one, would certainly love to see Blackbeard chased down by a dragon.”

“Well, you’re going to have to get David to record it, because it sounds like we’ll be at the convent talking to Blue.” Emma sent a short text to Lily, condensing what they needed from her into as few words as possible. “Unless you’d rather spend the day with Leroy.”

“Thank you, no.”

Shifting her attention to David, Emma asked, “Where will you start your search?”

“I was thinking we’d start in the main part of town,” David said, cleaning some smudges off of his phone with his shirt. “Blackbeard didn’t strike me as somebody who liked to stay hidden for long. We can ask around.”

“Might I suggest half of you search the docks? He wouldn’t choose to be away from my ship very long,” Killian broke in, looking disgusted by the very idea.

Emma’s cell buzzed, and she read the screen. I’m in. Where do I meet you?

Astonished, she said, “Lily is going to help.”

Pleased, David nudged her. “See? You’d be surprised what happens when you just ask. Have her meet us at Granny’s.”

“ All right. You’d better collect the dwarfs. Text me as soon as you find Blackbeard.”

“Good luck with the wand. Hopefully Blue can give you a clu-”

“Dad, no Blue’s Clues jokes. We agreed, you can’t make jokes about shows that aren’t on the air.”

“I never agreed.” After kissing her brow, David frowned through the glass at Graham and his granddaughter. “You aren’t taking Adi with you, are you?”

Stuffing her phone into her back pocket, Emma avoided his stare. “Actually, yeah, I am. With what happened yesterday, I feel like she needs to stay with me.”

“Emma, nothing is goi-”

Smiling stiffly, Emma spoke over him. “I’m going to go get Graham. See you later.”

Across town, Blackbeard traipsed into The Rabbit Hole through the back entrance and found himself in a storage area of some sort. Seeing the object of his mission, the fair figure taking meticulous inventory of liquor in the dusty, cool stockroom, he wasted no time in making his way to her side.

“Good morning, lovely.”

Shrieking, the barmaid dropped the bottle she was holding, which somehow didn’t shatter. “Who are you? What do you want?” she hissed, holding up her papers like a shield.

“Can you not even offer me a drink?” Blackbeard mocked, scooping up the bottle from the floor and popping the lid. “What kind of service is this?”

Collecting herself, the woman backed away and gave him a contemptuous look. Frigid wench. Well, when she heard his proposal, she would change her venomous demeanor soon enough.

“We aren’t open,” she said, words slicing the air unpleasantly. “Come back in a few hours.”

Smoothly, Blackbeard encroached on her again. “Come now, there’s no need for this unpleasant behavior.”

Flicking her wrist, she displayed a yellow-gripped object with a metal, triangular tip that reminded him of an arrow. “See this? This is called a box cutter. If you don’t know what that is, it’s like the nasty little cousin of a knife. If you aren’t out of this building in ten seconds, I am calling the sheriff. If you still don’t leave, you’re getting a firsthand experience in how the box cutter works.”

Her threat didn’t frighten him, but the deadpan, non-blustering way she delivered it almost did. The sharks which had nearly eaten him had displayed more humanity than this creature. “The sheriff. Funny you should mention her. I would think she’d be more interested in the details of the escapade you put Hook through, than me being in a tavern.” He took a swing from the bottle, keeping his gaze on her.

Lowering the box cutter, the barmaid assessed him with those emotionless eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“I have my ways,” Blackbeard praised himself, sweeping off his hat. “Madame Mim.”

In a flash, Mim had her blade pressed against his throat. “You know who I am. What did you hear. How did you hear?”

“I can’t show you until you release me, woman,” Blackbeard pointed out. Mim may have been a fairy, but she was no less a fool than any other female.

“Thanks, but I don’t want any more dealings with pirates. The last one failed me miserably.” Shoving him back, Mim took the bottle from his hand and placed it on a shelf.

Blackbeard hid his triumph as he situated his hat back upon his head. She didn’t know it, but Mim had set him up perfectly. Soon, he would have her. “Do tell, my lady. Perhaps I could even improve your outlook on pirates. Real captains, not weak imitations.”

“I told you to get out. I didn’t follow my instincts with Hook, so this time I am going to listen to them.”

“Your instincts?” Blackbeard inquired. He could not have cared less, but if he could get her to talk...

“His loyalty to the Swan woman still won out, if only subconsciously. As I knew it would. I tested him, you see, before I sent him out. He rejected my companionship.”

“A beautiful woman like you?” Blackbeard flattered.

Mim only curled her lip at him in disgust. “Not everything is about personal vanity, you ignorant pirate. I was angry because he failed the test, not because he turned me down. And even though I knew I couldn’t trust him, I was so determined to get what I want, I was blinded. Not again.”

“Let me at least tell you how I knew about the wand,” Blackbeard pressed, and with a flourish, drew the wand in question from his jacket. “You know, this one?”

Instead of making a grab for it, or insisting he hand it over, or any of the other dozen frenzied reactions Blackbeard had expected, the fairy’s flinty stare traveled between him and the wand several times, as if in deep thought. Then, with a voice colder than Arendelle’s winter, she asked, “Who are you?”

With a lot less authority than he had expected to have at this point in their negotiation, he introduced himself. “Captain Blackbeard, of the Jolly Roger.”

“You are Captain of Nothing. The ship belongs to Hook.”

Blackbeard’s laughed throatily. “Yes, just as much as this wand belongs to the Blue Fairy, I suppose. I will go see her. She might be willing to trade for it.” Grabbing a bottle of whiskey off of another shelf, he made for the exit, quickly but not too quickly.

“Wait.”

Sighing loudly, Blackbeard stopped on the gray, tiled floor.

“What do you want for the wand?”

“Only my ship back. I traded Hook for it fairly, many months ago.”

“Clearly you haven’t heard the town gossip. Hook lost his memories of the last few years. In all probability, he simply doesn’t remember.”

“I do not care about what he remembers or doesn’t. I want the ship, and only the ship.”

“If you desired it so badly, why didn’t you bring the wand to me sooner? And come to think of it, how did you even know about it?”

From his bandolier, Blackbeard took a spyglass and held it out for her consideration. “This is an enchanted spyglass. I paid top coin for it. You see, anything I look at through it, I can not only see clearly, but hear it as well. It has given me quite the advantage in naval skirmishes over the years. In any case, last evening, I saw Hook leave the ship. I thought it was my opportunity, but he left some of his crew behind to defend her. So I followed him to this tavern, and watched you both through the glass with this. As soon as I understood the scheme the two of you were concocting, I didn’t wait. I found a town map in the library and went straight to the convent. Took me a while to find the wand, and sneaking past a sleeping fairy isn’t all that easy, but I still got to it before Hook.”

“You risked much, pirate,” Mim said, but she was not complimenting him. “You could have been caught. Why are you only bringing it to me now? Why not right after you stole it?”

Putting away the spyglass, Blackbeard tried not to show the sheepishness he felt. The truth was, he had lurked at the docks for hours, trying to use the wand himself, visualizing turning the Jolly Roger’s crew into rats and other vermin so that he could board and take command

But the magical instrument had not responded to him in the least, and he had at last given up and decided to seek out the owner of the wand.

“I hardly think that is important. I am here now. Will you get me my ship?”

“Yes. But I need the wand to do so, of course.” Unfurling her fingers, Mim waited expectantly.

“Now, hold on. I think I want to get this in writing, first. One of those – A contract.”

“Don’t trust me?” Her mouth turned up in a slashing blade of amusement. “What good would a contract do you if I really wanted to betray you?”

“I heard some theories that magical beings honor their contracts. Or at least the Dark One did.”

“Contracts were the Dark One’s specialty. I don’t know if I’d apply so broad a brush over every being with powers. But, lucky for you, I am a fairy of integrity. I do not trick, or turn away from my promise if it is given. If a piece of paper helps you feel better, then so be it.” Tearing a paper label off of a box of alcohol, Mim flipped it over and took out a pen. “I am actually glad you were the one to bring the wand to me, Blackbeard. You are predictable, and therefore much less of a liability than Hook.”

Blackbeard was vaguely aware he was being insulted, but since Mim was grading him above Hook, he stifled his outrage. “Thank me by leading me to my ship,” he muttered, glancing over what she had written before giving his signature.

Mim then wrote her own name. “We can go right now.”

Hoping he wasn’t making the wrong decision, Blackbeard gave her the wand.

In the halls of the convent, Killian trailed behind Swan and her deputy, an uneasy feeling rising in his throat.

One of the fairies had greeted them at the door, and was leading them to Blue.

The fairy, she of the clandestine, midnight ‘phone’ calls, brought them to a sitting room and told them brightly, “Please wait here, Blue will be along shortly!”

Killian went to stand by the window, never having been enthralled with closed, cramped spaces. An empty, brown garden bed stretched out below the window, dotted with melting patches of snow.

“Want to give me Adi, Emma? That way if she starts crying during Mother Superior’s statement, I can take her out of the room,” Graham offered as the law enforcers seated themselves on a small sofa together.

It looked homey and familial and it made Killian inwardly glower.

All though the morning, what Emma had said to him on the ship had been cycling in his mind, in and out, like a tide.

It had almost persuaded him to tell her about his dealings with Mim, so Swan could track down the wand faster.

Years ago, Killian had a family with Liam, then Milah. Later, he’d wanted to make a new one with Bae. By the time Nemo came along, Killian had scoffed at the very idea of family – and he still didn’t believe what he’d had could ever be replaced.

But Emma’s offer of being a part of something, and the possibility of being the man he wanted to be...They way she’d said it...

Maybe the idea appealed to him.

Or maybe he was just a deluded fool who had survived far, far too long; a man who had outlived hope and new beginnings.

“Killian?”

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, breaking out of the reverie.

“I was asking what you thought.”

Blankly, he asked, “About what?”

“Do you want Graham to take Adi on a walk around the convent while we talk to Mother Superior?”

“I do not have…Why would you ask my opinion?”

“Because you’re her father, and now that you know it, you get to have a say in these things. That’s why.”

“Unless she becomes a wee sailor on my ship, I do not think my opinions on her daily activities are going to be very discerning, love,” Killian responded, staring out of the window again to avoid the conversation. Truthfully, he didn’t see the need for the child to be unnecessarily sent away. There was no reason for her to be treated as a burden, something easily cast off.

Then he heard Graham saying, “It’s all right, Emma. We’ll see what Mother Superior says,” and Killian felt his temper flare.

“Well, mate, I think she should stay. She’s not bothering anything, now is she?”

The moment deteriorated into an uncomfortable quiet, and then Emma broke into a resplendent smile. “Sure, Killian. She can stay, if that is what you want.”

Not wanting her to overemphasize the moment, Killian leaned against the window, watching as a raven landed in the empty garden, hopped a few paces, and flew away again.

Emma and Graham let him be, conversing quietly until the door opened, and the Blue Fairy tapped inside on modest, practical shoes.

Killian noticed she’d straightened her hair since he last saw her, and the wild corkscrew curls had been tamed into a plain knot at the back of her head, to complete her simple and understated look.

“I’m glad you are here, savior,” she said crisply, perching herself on the room’s only other chair. “This is a very grave matter.”

“I realize that,” Emma mollified her, and Ariadne began to make soft, lisping noises. Rocking the baby seat with her foot, Emma continued, “We’re taking it very seriously. When did you first notice it was missing?”

“Just before I called to report it, of course.”

“And when is the last time you remember seeing it?”

“I keep it in my room, but I don’t often take it out, if that is what your mean. I keep it in a drawer, and remove it to clean it about once a month. So to answer your question, I can’t exactly remember the last time I saw it...maybe three weeks ago or more.”

Graham, scratching onto his pad with his pen, asked, “Why do you keep it in storage? Do any of the other fairies know about it?”

“The oth-” Blue bristled. “Huntsman, surely you must realize that whoever broke in last night is responsible for this. My fairies are all loyal.”

“Then why hide away a wand?” Graham came back, and though the deputy remained perfectly courteous, Killian mentally rewarded him points for tenacity.

“Is this the Black Fairy’s wand?” Emma spoke up, prodding the carrier with slightly more emphasis as Ariadne’s gentle coos turned to cheery, loud chirps.

“No, this particular wand belonged to the Purple Fairy.”

It would have gone overlooked by anybody not attuned to her propensity to hide behind walls, but Killian didn’t miss the irritable twitch in Emma’s brow.

Displaying a subtle sign of annoyance himself, Graham rubbed his index finger just above his lip before speaking. “Could you tell us about this ‘Purple’ Fairy?”

A tapping at the door curtailed Blue’s response, and she invited, “Come in!”

With a whisper of noise, the door opened, and another woman dressed in the same somber convent wear as the head fairy announced shyly, “We are finished with the cleanup in the library.”

“Thank you. You and the others are excused for the morning, Gray.”

“Oh! Thank you, Blue!”

After ‘Gray’ left, Emma exhaled. “Do you ever feel like you’re a convent of Power Rangers?”

Blue stared at her humorlessly, while Graham chewed his lower lip in a poor demonstration of hiding a smile. Killian had no idea what she was referencing.

“You know, Pink Ranger, Yellow..never mind. Who is Purple?”

Blue sipped her tea. “It is a delicate matter, sheriff...”

Emma folded her arms. “I’ll bet. How ‘bout you tell me anyway?” The coating of authority over the suggestion inspired a delighted feeling of exhilaration in Killian. My, but she was ravishing when she was in command.

“Hmm.” Blue settled her cup and saucer in her lap, and stared musingly into the distance. “It was many years ago. So long ago that Purple and I were young, and training in fairy duties. She had a...strong personality, to put it delicately, but she was tireless. Very talented, and always so determined to be a good fairy. I am not speaking of moral goodness, unfortunately. She wanted to be the best fairy, you see.”

“Our teacher recognized her ambition, and warned her many times that what she wanted might not come to be, no matter how hard she worked.”

“What do you mean by that?” Emma asked, springing on Blue’s vagueness like a predator.

“Reul Ghorm, have you heard of this being?”

“Uhh..” Emma bent forward and placed a pacifier in Ariadne’s mouth in an attempt to quiet the baby’s ever increasing volume. “I think so? Henry’s book said something about it...”

“Superstitious villagers in the Enchanted forest thought of Reul Ghorm as an ancient being that rules the night, and these rumors spread fear and misinformation until the legend was distorted. Reul Ghorm is a powerful, ancient being, it is true; but there is more to it than danger.”

“Wait, wait. I remember now. Henry’s book said you were Reul Ghorm. Or at least, you answered to that name,” Swan said suspiciously.

“Indeed. Much like the Dark One curse, the mantle of Reul Ghorm can be passed on. And Purple thought she was in line to receive the title.”

Emma and Graham exchanged a look. Killian watched Blue closely, trying to ascertain whether the fairy was withholding more than she acted.

“I think I can see where this one is going,” the deputy commented.

“I believe her exact words were, ‘I deserve it’,” Blue responded, sighing regretfully “She had the strength, but not the temperament for the position. Our teacher recognized the darkness in her ambition. When I was named Reul Ghorm, Purple became angry and wrathful, even threatening harm. We tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t have it. We were afraid she would go rogue, so my first act was one of my most difficult. I had to banish her. I sent her to Camelot, without her wings, and without magic.”

Killian spoke up for the first time. “Expressing compunctions of past deeds is all well and good, but Lady Bell said you didn’t seem to have any reservations about doing the same to her.”

Blue clutched her cup tightly. “Because by then, I had learned my lesson. A least in Neverland, an exile could not attempt to cause chaos and anarchy within a kingdom.”

“I assume you’re talking about Camelot?” Emma asked sharply. “From what I saw, it seems so me like that kingdom could have used some overthrowing.”

“It was well before Arthur’s time. Regardless of that,” Blue said primly, “Purple created enough trouble, even without her magic, to be banished from that land as well. She was clever, and played the advisors against one another to her own advantage.”

“Sounds like you underestimated her,” Killian smirked.

“She called herself Mim in that land,” Blue finished, somehow giving Killian the impression of rolling her eyes without actually doing it.

“Whoa, Mim?” Emma asked jadedly. “The crazy shapeshifting witch from the Sword in the Stone movie?”

“One and the same, although her real character is as drastically different from the portrayal in the cartoon as most of the residents of Storybrooke are from theirs.”

Ariadne’s shrieks of delight were reaching a crescendo, and Graham rose. “I’ll take her out, Emma. You can fill me in later.”

Swan nodded. “Thanks, Graham.”

Killian thought quickly. Through Blue’s story, he had easily come to grasp that Mim’s goal was likely, above all else, a quest for revenge.

Vengeance he knew, vengeance he understood.

Which was why he was convinced that if he could only deliver a wand to Mim, even a different wand than the one belonging to her, she would change her tune and bring the crocodile to him.

But to do that, he would need to explore the convent.

“I will take the baby,” he announced.

“You’ll what?” Emma queried, incredulous.

“I will take her out of the room and walk her about. Then the two enforcers of law can do their duty, so that maybe sometime today, I can get back to mine.” He tried to stress the appropriate parts of his wording, hoping it would convince one of them.

He doubted Swan could be fooled, but if the deputy sided with him he might have a chance.

“I don’t think -” Graham began to speak.

“Is there something wrong?” Blue, demanded, crossing her knees. “I heard the Captain is missing his memories, but...”

“Nothing is wrong,” Emma said through her teeth. “It’s just, Killian is still not used to being around Adi, and I wouldn’t want him to get overwhelmed on his own.”

Oh, she was a good liar. But not good enough. Just how far would she go to maintain the facade?

“Nonsense, we’ll be fine.” Easing around the sofa, he reached for the handle of the baby carrier.

“Don’t you want to take her out of that thing? It’s not the easiest to lug around,” Graham said, teetering between mistrust and uncertainty.

“Well, I am still a novice at this infant thing. Perhaps I am not qualified enough to hold her yet.” Resting his hand on the handle, he glanced at Emma for permission. “Swan, may I?”

“Let’s step outside.” Emma said stiffly. To Blue, she explained, “Just a couple last minute pointers. Be right back.”

Killian lifted the seat and followed Emma into the hallway. As soon as he closed the door, she rounded on him. “What are you trying to do?”

“Make your job easier. I thought that much was obvious.”

“Look, I don’t know what it is in this building that you want so badly, but I know the missing wand has something to do with it. Be back in ten minutes. If you cause any problems, I am throwing you in jail again. I know letting you run around in here is probably incredibly stupid of me, but right now I have bigger problems, and I need Blue focused on the stolen wand, and not you.”

Swerving around him, she grasped the door handle.

“Wait, Swan, if she starts crying...what do I do?”

“Take her out of the seat and cuddle her. Talk to her. That red button there will release the straps. Ten minutes, Killian.”

With that, she disappeared.

“All right, little mate. Are you up for an adventure?” Killian asked the baby, and Ariadne affirmed her commitment to his cause with a short scream.

He quickly realized he was in a different wing of the building than where he’d conducted his escapade last night. Nothing was recognizable. Starting off down the hallway, he took everything in, hoping to see some clue as to where wands might be stored.

True to Swan’s predictions, Ariadne was happy with the change of scenery, and quieted, making his search easier.

The further he got from the study, the more he thought...

Well, he thought he could hear something.

Just on the edge of hearing, it called to him, not quite a whisper, and not a hum, or a song.

After living at sea for so many years, Killian had learned not to trust illusions, mirages, and tricks. For all he knew, this eerie feeling could be as dangerous as a siren’s call.

And yet, he couldn’t ignore it.

He drew closer to the beacon, and Ariadne began to squirm and whimper inside her carrier.

“Captain? Can I help you with something?”

A black-haired fairy he had never seen before was peering around a corner, watching him quizzically.

“Thank you, love, no. I’m just taking-” Killian took a breath, working the strange words around his tongue. “-my daughter for a constitutional, while her mother speaks to your Captain, the Blue Fairy.” He hoped claiming the child as his would ease any suspicions the fairy might have.

“Oh, I see. Might I suggest the art gallery? She may like the bright colors.”

“Thank you, I will take it into consideration,” Killian said politely, but making it clear he was ending the conversation.

With a nod, the woman left.

Killian continued on, letting himself be drawn closer. Soon, he came to a closed door. After looking both ways, making sure there was nobody else around, he tested the handle to see if it was locked.

It was not.

Nothing about the room would have caught his notice, if not for the invisible pull. It seemed to be a sort of office, complete with reference books, a desk, and one of those glowing cubes the beings in this realm seemed to be unable to function without.

Setting the baby and seat safely in a corner on the floor, Killian shut the door behind him and began to explore the room.

“Let’s not tell your mum about this,” he told Ariadne out of the corner of his mouth. “What do you think?”

The baby responded with a protracted whine, earlier whimpers escalating quickly.

“Quiet, love. The first rule of raiding is to not let them know you’re coming until it’s too late.”

Ariadne was not impressed with his wisdom, and cried louder. Killian knew he would have to hurry.

The pressure in his head was building, steering him and reeling him until his feet were before the desk.

Sliding open the desk’s bottom drawer, he saw nothing but a hand-sized green object that looked almost like a reversed ‘9’ that read Scotch, a pair of shears, some pens, and a tube with the word ‘lotion’ printed on it.

Dead end.

Unless...

Tracing his fingers along the seams of the bottom of the drawer, he found a notch.

Lifting carefully, he removed the panel holding the mundane objects, smiling. A false bottom.

Below it was -

Rocking back on his heels, Killian drew an awed, stunned breath.

Rippled edges glinting mutely in the artificial overhead light, the blackened blade highlighted one word.

Rumpelstiltskin.

Dimly he heard Ariadne’s cries turn to frantic, terrified sounding sobs. But his mind was spinning, too stunned to be triumphant over his discovery.

He had it, the means to kill the crocodile.

One of the very first things he had seen upon coming to this land was Emma using her magic to create a light in his cabin. He had known then that, somehow, the ‘Land Without Magic’ was no longer so, and he would have to deal with the alternative – the dagger Bae had told him about.

And here it was, within his grasp.

Hand shaking, he took the handle, preparing to conceal it inside his jacket.

But the stunned fog in his mind lifted somewhat, and Killian released his grip on the weapon.

If he could ‘hear’ the dagger, there was a chance everybody else could, too.

There was a possibility this supposition was incorrect, considering the dagger was not very secure, just hidden; but Swan, who had already cast her doubts upon him, would be watching extra closely, and the fairies were on alert after the vandalism and theft.

It would have to wait.

He thought he might go mad, waiting even a second longer, but that was the way it had to be. Now that he knew where it was secreted, he could send Smee to retrieve it when passions died down.

Heart still thudding in his chest, Ariadne’s cries finally penetrated his consciousness. She would give him away to anyone withing hearing distance if he didn’t do something.

Replacing the false bottom of the drawer and shutting it, he went to the baby, crouching down and rocking the contraption, as he’d seen Emma do.

As soon as he’d put the dagger away, Ariadne had calmed significantly, and her sobs tapered to hiccuping squeaks as he fussed over her, frantic to quiet her and evade discovery.

“Good lass, no need to fret. You did well in your first caper. What a magnificent lookout you were, darling. But you must hush, now, or ‘twill all be for naught.”

The nonsense words worked wonders; she opened her eyes and blinked away tears, gurgling weakly.

“Took a lot out of you, didn’t it? Let’s get you back to your mum.”

Proud and tall, Blackbeard’s ship sat in its berth, waiting for him.

After months of being imprisoned, he would at last reclaim her, and she would be used as she was intended – the weapon of a pirate.

He could not reign in his patience any longer. “Can’t you move any faster? You promised me the ship.”

“I may have my wand, but I still don’t have my wings yet. If you know what is good for you, you’ll shut up. I’ll move as fast as I want.”

Once they were before the ship, Mim lifted her wand, smiling manically. Blackbeard almost stepped away from her.

“I have missed this,” the fairy whispered, and motioned with her wand.

From what he could see, nothing happened.

Blackbeard frowned. “Did I miss something?” he demanded. “Looks the same to me.”

Sourly, Mim explained, “Blood magic. It’s sealed with Hook’s blood.”

“So unseal it.”

“It’s not that simple, cretin. Blood magic cannot be undone. By anyone, or anything other than who it is sealed to.”

Pounding a fist against a post of the pier, Blackbeard growled. “You are telling me we need Hook to get on board? He will never agree to that. You owe me, lady! You’d best find some way to pay up!”

“Calm down, won’t you?” Mim snapped, tucking the wand in her belt. “I can find some way to get past it. If not Hook then someone rela...”

Trailing off, she giggled. The pearls of laughter sounded more like a death knell, to him. “It might take a few days, but it can be done. You will just have to suffer a little longer.”

“What?” Blackbeard asked, not following.

“Oh, you’re going to love this one.”

Chapter Text

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“Dad, your left!”

“I see it! Regina, watch out for the claws!”

“Everyone, duck!” Mary Margaret screamed, and seconds later, two arrows – one from the bow of Snow, and one from Robin – hissed and curved through the air, finding their targets: the left and right heads of the immense canine that was attacking them.

The head in the center snarled and snapped its jaws, shaving the back of Emma’s jacket.

“Mom!” she heard her son cry.

“Henry, stay back!” Emma yelled as a massive paw swiped at her head. Lifting her hands, she blasted it with a burst of magic, but the monstrosity didn’t even twitch.

The paw hit her directly in the chest and knocked Emma to the ground, pinning her, then pushed her bodily into half-dried mud. The left head, an arrow still sunken into its forehead, lowered, maw gaping. Its hot, rancid breath washed over her.

“Emma!” David shouted, and, using the sword he’d found at the Underworld version of the loft, slashed the across the beast’s left neck.

Growling, the head lifted away from Emma, took the sword in its mouth, and flung it away. Not a hair on its ruff had been cut.

David staggered as the weapon was torn out of his hands, and from her back, Emma could see Regina trying to conjure a fireball with no success.

The air was taken from Emma as the creature leaned more of its weight on her upper body, and she opened her mouth in a silent cry. She again attempted to call on her magic, but try as she might, it still would not affect the beast.

Once, during her bailbondsperson days, a mark had cracked one of her ribs, kicking her when she’d tried to chase him. She had a feeling this was going to hurt a lot more.

Graham, in a last-ditch effort, drew his gun and began firing at the monster. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the canine’s body, about as effective as tossing pebbles at a bear.

“Cerberus!” a voice called, followed by a sharp whistle.

The beast retreated to the summons, and Emma drank in a painful breath, chest aching.

Regina took Emma’s hands and pulled her to her feet, pausing to clarify, “You going to be all right?”

Emma waved her away. “Yeah, but what was that? Who called that thing off?” she panted, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Henry was a safe distance away from them.

Through the persistent reddish haze, a humanoid figure strode assertively, the three-headed animal at his side. “I did.”

Lifting her hands at the exact same time as Regina, Emma called on her magic, feeling it surging to her fingertips as she assessed the newcomer.

“Who are you?” Snow asked from behind her taut bowstring.

“I’m Hades. I’d say welcome to the Underworld, but I didn’t exactly invite you.”

Doing a double-take, Emma lowered her arms a fraction, mostly in disbelief. This man – god? – did not look like any kind of deity she’d ever pictured.

With close-cropped, reddish hair, and wearing a business suit that looked off-the-rack, he seemed more like he would be at home behind a desk, encouraging her to open a credit card or get a loan for something, rather than overseeing the dead.

“You’re Hades?” Emma asked with a suggestion of derision. “You look sort of like the fraudulent salesman I brought to jail once.”

“Oh, I see.” Hades gestured to himself. “Too understated?”

With a puff of dark smoke, he was suddenly wearing ancient robes, and his skin had taken on a bluish sheen. His hair had disappeared and in its place was a lick of pale flame.

“Okay,” Emma acknowledged to herself. “Maybe there is more to this guy than I first thought.” Feeling some of her bravado slip, she spoke again. “Anyway, sorry to intrude on your…domain or whatever. We’re not here to cause trouble. We’ll be in and out before you know it. I’m just here for one-” Licking her lips, she glanced at Graham and amended, “Two people.”

Stroking one of the heads of his pet, Hades glowered. “That is not how it works here, I’m afraid,” he said smoothly. “These souls are here for a reason. Besides, it is not an easy thing, restoring a mortal to life.”

“Just the one, then,” Graham spoke up. “So recently arrived, you wouldn’t even miss him.”

“Two,” Regina emphasized crisply. “And don’t you worry about how, Hades. We can take care of the details. We will leave you to your…whatever it is you do around here, just don’t interfere. It’s not like we want to be here, any more than you want us to be. Like Emma said, we’ll be gone as soon as possible. Sound fair?”

Hades began to laugh. “Are you trying to negotiate with me?” Menacingly, he stepped closer to the group. Cerberus, stirred by his master’s new-found aggression, snarled eagerly.

David pulled Henry to his side, and Emma shifted her body to give them cover.

“You are known as the Evil Queen, yes?” Hades addressed Regina. “You already have interfered. Just yesterday, you sent your dear old Dad to a better place, and I lost a soul. I really didn’t appreciate that.”

Pointing at Emma, he continued, “And you. Emma ‘The Savior’ Swan. Sweet little Meg told you exactly where this cave is, didn’t she? Now, the only reason any of you would want to access the dungeon is because I am holding the person you want.”

A lifetime spent disguising her emotions had given Emma an excellent poker face to call upon when needed, and she smiled faintly, impassively, waiting for his next move.

When he presented a large, shining, hook, familiar even for all of its bloodstains, Emma lost all pretense.

Seeing the object that had come to represent her love battered in such a violent, primal manner drained the breath from her, more painfully than Cerberus had. “Where is he? What have you done to him?” she demanded. She started forward, no goal clearly in mind, but Regina grabbed her and held her back.

“Not laughing now, are you?” Throwing the hook at her feet, Hades said carelessly, “Here, you can have it. He certainly won’t be needing it anymore.”

Making eye contact with every last person in the group, Hades warned, “Don’t come near here again. Next time, I might not be around to call off Cerberus.”

Turning on his heel, Hades made to leave.

“Wait!” Regina called. “What about Graham? Can I persuade you to let him go? Can he be restored to life?”

Chortling, Hades responded, “Can he? Of course. I have the power to do that. Will I? Now that is another matter.”

Emma could hear Graham swallow hard, and Regina stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“All right, then what do you want in return?” she asked.

“Evil Queen with a guilty conscience! Who would have guessed?” He gave Regina an exaggerated, slow clap. Pretending to think it over, Hades finally said, “How about your magic?”

Regina sputtered. “My magic? How could taking away my magic possibly benefit you?”

“It wouldn’t. I just want to see what you’ll do, when choosing to help one of your victims might affect a part of you,” he replied smoothly. “Think it over, your highness. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”

Present day

Storybrooke

Once Emma was finished with the initial, cursory interview questions, she settled her hands on her knees and prepared Mother Superior for the more serious inquiries.

“Graham, can you make sure Killian isn’t listening out there, first?” she asked her deputy, and after he checked and affirmed that the pirate was not nearby, she set in with her concerns.

“I think maybe Gold is behind this theft,” she told the fairy.

Mother Superior stirred her tea with a small spoon. “How could that be?”

“I don’t know. He’s still in the cell. But he knows about Ariadne. Maybe he’s working with someone.”

After contemplating this, Mother Superior pointed out, “But as I told you, Purple got swept up in the curse. She’s here in town. Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to be after the wand?”

“Maybe. Even so, that means she’s been here for years and hasn’t tried to take it. And Gold is still wearing the cuff thingie, which makes him pretty much powerless. But if he had the wand, he’d be able to use magic again,” Emma extrapolated.

“True. However – and I beg your pardon, Emma, but – it almost sounds like you want Rumpelstiltskin to be the thief,” Mother Superior said, probing. “Do you?”

She did. Horrible as it may have been, she wanted an excuse to get rid of him for good, even if it meant throwing him over the town line. He’d caused enough damage to her family and the town, and thinking he wouldn’t hesitate to do even more if given the opportunity was an exercise in futility.

Gold was the reason Killian had been left in the Underworld. She didn’t need a reprise of that experience.

“I just want to make sure we have all the bases covered,” Emma replied.

“Then please don’t overlook Purple as a suspect. Rumpelstiltskin may be your enemy, but he is an evil that you know. Don’t let the fact that Purple has been lying low since the original curse deceive you.”

“We won’t.” Opening a new line of conversation, Emma inquired, “So whoever has the wand, would it give them unlimited access to magic? Or do the wands run out of juice at some point?”

Mother Superior nearly glared, as if she’d said something offensive. “That is somewhat of an overly-simplified description, but the answer is yes, wands have their limits, in a way. Especially if the one wielding it has no magic of his or her own. Such as our suppressed Dark One, or Purple.”

“That’s good, right?” Graham wondered cautiously.

“One would assume,” Mother Superior said. “Providing they didn’t find a way to enhance it.”

Emma wiggled in her seat, losing the last of her tenuous patience. “Sounds like the sooner we go after this wand, the better. Mother Superior, if you think Mim did it, then we’ll check in with her first.”

“But that is the most curious thing,” she answered, a seam appearing between her brows as she frowned. “I place a magic lock around the wand, specific to her. If she has the wand, she is not the one who removed it from its hiding place.”

Graham lowered his writing pad in disbelief. “Just for her? Why not for everyone?”

The fairy smiled sparingly. “We try to restrain the amount of magic we use here. Too much can act as a beacon and cause problems.”

“Interesting,” Emma thought, folding her hands and resolving that once this crisis was resolved, she was definitely going to sit down and pick Mother Superior’s brain about magic and its effects.

Especially now that she knew her daughter had it.

“So, that means we are back to square one,” Emma said. “Either Mim or Gold had someone steal it.”

“Or there was a third party,” Graham voiced his thought.

“Possible,” Emma acknowledged, “but every instinct I have says it’s one of the first two.” Knowing that if Gold was the culprit, her next question would be relevant, she turned to Mother Superior and asked, “Do we know if the dagger is still secure?”

When Emma and the rest of her family had returned from the Underworld with Rumpelstiltskin as their prisoner, they had agreed that the leader of the fairies and Emma should hide the Dark One and his dagger separately, and keep the knowledge of their locations a secret; not only from the town, but from each other as well. That way, if one was compromised, the other would remain hidden.

“Yes.” With a bob of her coiffed head, the other woman said, “The dagger is still secure. As soon as I learned the wand was missing, I checked. However, I did movie it temporarily.”

“Why?” Graham asked.

“My original hiding place was very protected, but perhaps a bit too obvious. I chose to move it to a less conspicuous place, even if somewhat more vulnerable. It’s-”

“No, don’t tell us,” Emma told her, lifting a hand. “Just stay on alert. Contact us if anything else happens.”

“I will.” Setting her tea aside and arranging her skirt, Mother Superior added, “If you do find whoever has the wand, and you need reinforcements, please call on us. Nobody understands fairy magic like we do.”

“Right.” Standing, Emma tugged down the bottom of her jacket. “Thank you for everything, Mother Superior.”

“Of course. Do you need me to call a Sister to see you out?”

“We’ll be okay.”

After shaking hands with her, Emma and Graham left the room.

“So, what do you think, Sheriff? Are we really going to go search for Mim first?” Graham asked as they walked.

“I don’t know. We could split up, and save time.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, she knew she didn’t like them.

“Is that such a good idea?” Graham asked hesitantly, as if afraid to contest her. “I’m no expert on magic, but it sounds like the wand can pack a punch. It might be better to stick together.”

“You’re probably right. Let’s find Killian and get going.”

They rounded a corner, and nearly walked right into the pirate in question.

He had Adi’s car seat in his hand, and was moving with an air of absolute distraction. He hardly even seemed to notice the near-collision.

“Hey. There you are. Have a good walk?” Emma asked, scanning him to try and figure out what had him so flustered.

“Aye, Swan,” he said, handing the seat to Graham. “She cried for a little while, but I was able to calm her. I think she missed you.”

Ducking down, Emma viewed her baby. Ariadne’s cheeks were faintly blotched, giving credence to Killian’s claim that she had been in tears, but other than that she was perfectly content. A joyous smile lit her face when she saw her mother looking at her.

“Hi, Kid,” Emma said to her, feeling a reflexive, returning grin cross her face. “Ready to go see a nasty fairy?”

“Wait, Swan, what are you talking about?” Killian questioned, sounding apprehensive.

“We decided to go question Mim about the wand.” Emma lifted herself to a standing position again, trying to ignore the stiffness in her back after sitting on the uncomfortable couch.

Killian’s jaw beat a tic. “And you think it’s a wise idea to bring the lass? We will be confronting a vengeful, clever being with vast ambition, who possibly has her magic again. Please, Swan, send the baby somewhere safe in the meantime. I’ve witnessed firsthand what can happen to the victims of magic, and I’d not like to see a defenseless infant suffer.”

Just the thought of Adi without any protection was more than enough to rattle Emma. “I can’t leave her with someone else. She could get hurt.”

Emma saw a hint of his teeth as he grimaced and spared a look at Graham, then his daughter. He seemed to be struggling with something. “A word, Swan?”

Confident that Ariadne would be safe in the hands of the deputy, with tens of fairies a call away, Emma said to her friend, “Graham, go strap her into the car, please? We’ll be right out.”

“Sure.”

When Graham and the baby were out of sight, Killian searched their surroundings before pulling her into an alcove, and Emma’s breath caught in her throat. “What is going on?” she asked.

“I don’t want anyone, especially the fairies, overhearing this. I didn’t even want to tell you, but you are so bloody stubborn-”

“I’m stubborn?”

He hadn’t let go of her arm, and he gripped it a bit tighter to prove his point. “Like a mule, love. I have no doubt that you are one of the most resourceful, brave people I have ever encountered – and even before you had your magic, powerful – but bringing the baby along to confront a wicked fairy is like spitting in the eye of an ogre. It’s just asking for trouble.”

“You don’t have to worry. We’re just asking her a few questions. And anyway, I have my own suspicions as to who really has the wand. You weren’t there at the time, but Mother Superior said she had a barrier around the wand to keep Mim away. So I doubt she’s really even the culprit.”

“Yes, I know there was a protection spell, which is why the creature bloody asked me to retrieve it! Why do you think I was here last night?”

By the final words he was nearly shouting, and while she was hit by a jolt at his confession, she found the presence of mind to press her hands against his chest. “Shhh!”

Huddled close, they both listened and waited, half expecting a fairy to drag them out of the alcove like naughty schoolchildren and bring them to Blue.

As the moments passed, Emma felt the warmth of his chest under her hands, and the slight expanding and retracting as he breathed. It was a beautiful thing to experience, simply because she never thought she would have it again.

“Did you say,” Emma said slowly, “that Mim hired you to steal the wand?”

Sullenly, he responded, “Yes. Was I not clear the first time?”

Betrayal bit her, though she knew there was no sound reason for it to – after all, she could not reasonably expect an amnesiac Killian to be loyal to her – and she managed to protest, “But you swore to me you didn’t do it!”

Insulted, he responded, “And I didn’t. When I found the storage spot, it was already gone. Somebody beat me to it.”

Emma was caught between concentration on his revelation and confusion as to why he had admitted it in the first place. “What made you decide to tell me?”

He hesitated. “Because I don’t want you to involve the baby in this.”

Her mind sorted through his words, wavering and wondering. He cared about Ariadne. At the very least, he didn’t want her in harm’s way, and he’d given away part of his scheme to keep her from it.

“I have to keep her with me, Killian,” she began.

“Right, because of whatever it is you are hiding from me,” he snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Makes perfect sense.”

“There’s more going on than you realize. As soon as you get your memories back, I can explain everything. But I told you already why I can’t.”

“Something about my welfare; I remember. But, since we are dredging up your past words, I seem to also recall something you said to me not ten minutes ago. According to you, ‘I get a say in this’. Or have you changed your mind?”

Fumbling over her words, Emma stuttered in a hopeful rush, “Do you – you believe – you finally believe she’s yours?”

Chagrined, he backed away, just as far as the alcove would permit him to move. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe, Swan. Since I arrived, nothing has happened as I expected, and I can’t-”

Recognizing his constraint was weakening, and his vulnerability showing, Emma collected him in her arms and held him close, mindful that even though they were pressed for time, Killian needed her. She was tired of fighting and going around in circles with him, and could only assume he was just as frustrated.

“I know it must be confusing. There’s a lot to absorb. It’s only been a couple days since you came back, and I haven’t even told you everything yet. But it’s going to be okay, I promise. As soon as we take care of the wand and Blackbeard problems, I’m going to sit down with you and go over the years you lost.. Every detail. It’s gonna be all right.”

The problems of the last days that had been screaming for her attention faded into a manageable background noise as Killian, astonishing her in the best way, pressed her closer. He didn’t give an explanation, and she didn’t care.

Resting her head on his shoulder, Emma said gently, “Listen, just for now, please trust me when I say Ariadne is safest by my – our side. That okay with you?”

“I suppose it will have to be.”

“Hey. Nothing in this world, or any other realm, is more important to me than my kids. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have a good reason.”

He chuckled into her hair. “I know you would, darling. I watched you cross realms for your boy, remember?”

I’d do the same for you.

I did the same for you. I’d do it again.

She didn’t say it, but she hoped, in some way, he could feel it.

As one, Killian and his companions burst through the door of the Rabbit Hole: Graham with his firearm ready, Emma with her magic at hand and wearing Ariadne in a baby sling, and Killian with his cutlass drawn.

There was a yelp of terror, and movement from the bar as the only visible occupant of the room fell from his stool in an ungainly manner, crashing to the floor along with the bottle of alcohol he’d been imbibing.

“Please!” he cried from the ground. “I’ll pay for everything I drank, I swear! For god’s sake, just don’t shoot!”

“Keith?” Emma lowered her arms, quirking an eyebrow. “What are you doing? The place is still closed.”

The weaselly man lifted himself up to a sitting position painfully, upper half swaying. “I didn’t mean any harm. I noticed nobody was here, and I thought it was kind of suspicious, since opening time is just an hour from now. Back door wasn’t even locked. So, I came in to inspect things, make sure everything was in order. I guess you can take Nottingham from the sheriff, but you can’t take the sheriff from…” Seeming to be at a loss as to how he was going to finish his drunken rambling, the man finished uncertainly, “From the man. Was just trying to do my civic duty, Ma’am.”

Quickly identifying the fellow as nothing more than a nasty sycophant, Killian allowed himself a negligible amount of ease. Whoever this person had been in the Enchanted Forest, he was no threat here.

“Of course you were,” Emma agreed drily. “Tell me, Keith, was the back door really unlocked?”

Lifting two fingers, as if in salute, the man avowed, “On my honor, I swear it. Nobody was here. It’s like they just walked away.”

Killian watched as Emma and Graham exchanged meaningful glances. “She isn’t here,” said the deputy.

“Let’s check the stockroom. Keith, where is the back door?”

Waving his hand back and forth vaguely, he said, “Over there.”

“Let’s go check it out,” Emma said, and Graham obediently followed her as she and Ariadne stalked towards the rear of the building.

Perhaps they meant for him to follow, but Killian had other plans.

As the other three disappeared into the backroom, he casually lifted the sword again, almost – but not quite – prodding Keith’s chest with it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the tall man demanded uneasily.

“I think you know more than what our dear enforcers of the law thought to ask you. How about we find out?” Killian shifted closer.

Keith set an unfocused stare upon him, as if seeing him for the first time. “So the rumors are true. You’re alive. Don’t have all your memories, is that right?”

“We’re talking about your memories, mate. Why were you in the vicinity? Does the back door lead into an alley? The lot of another building? What were you doing back there?”

Keith attempted a laugh that ended up being more of a drunken giggle. “You don’t scare me. I’ve gone up against the Dark One. Think I’m frightened of a dead pirate?”

Tapping the man’s side with the edge of the sword, Killian said, “Maybe not, but I would wager Swan might strike some fear into you. You certainly seemed cowed by her earlier.”

“She’s got magic. She defeated the Dark One. I’m not stupid.” Keith wriggled away from the weapon. “But, even so, she has her limits.”

“Do explain,” Killian said drolly, deciding to amuse himself by listening.

“That year you were dead? It messed her up. She didn’t recover. The whole town knows it. Her father had to step in and co-sheriff because she couldn’t handle it,” Keith said contemptuously. “She’d stay on that ship for hours. Pathetic.”

And with a curtailed blink, Killian was lost in the years of standing on the Jolly’s deck in the dark of Neverland, wishing for just one more moment with Milah. Mourning her.

It hadn’t occurred to him it would be possible for someone to miss him the same way.

“It seems clear to me that she transferred some of her workload because she is the lone parent to an infant,” Killian told Keith shortly, hissing the words. “And I have not noticed any failings in her abilities.”

“Sure, because you’re back now. But mark me, the people she loves are her weakness.”

“Enough changing the subject. You are supposed to be telling me why you were here. You can either spill your words,” Killian gestured with the cutlass, first to his mouth, “or your guts,” and then to his stomach.

Throwing a desperate look over his shoulder to where Emma and Graham had disappeared, Keith muttered something. “I was waiting for the place to open. You know how it is, buy a drink, maybe talk to a nice lady.”

“At the back of the building? With the waste and rats? How scenic.”

A telltale flinch, and Killian knew he was close to the truth. “I was just taking a stroll. I didn’t see anything other than the open door.”

“Guts it is, then.”

“Wait, wait!” Keith spread his fingers in a plea, stepping back. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he stepped on the shattered whiskey bottle. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did see something. Drinking makes me forget things, you know?”

Rotating the blade of the cutlass, Killian smirked. “Of course. I’ve blamed rum in the past. How miraculous for you to remember. Go on.”

“The purple-haired bartender. The woman. The really attractive one? She left here with a man I’ve never seen before. He had long hair and a red jacket.”

That explained Mim’s disappearance, but not the why of it. Left with only more questions and no recourse but to ask them, Killian said, “Blackbeard?”

“If I knew the answer to that, don’t you think I would have said so? Look, I just came in here to get a drink and wait for the bartender to come back! When she didn’t, I helped myself. I wasn’t looking to be interrogated!”

Killian considered pressing the man for more details, but decided he’d excavated all he would learn from the drunk. “Swan,” he called out.

“Just a second. We’re still checking things out.”

“You’ll want to hear this.”

Moments later, Emma returned with Ariadne and the ever-constant Graham.

“What is it? Why’d you stay behind?” she asked, flashing her eyes suspiciously at Keith. “I wanted to have a talk with this upstanding resident of your town. He forgot to tell you earlier, but he saw Mim leave this establishment, along with Blackbeard.”

“Blackbeard?” Emma stroked the bottom of Ariadne’s foot with her palm. “Working with Mim?”

“Well, when we find them, that solves two of our problems at once,” Graham said, sounding relieved.

“Keith, when was this? How long ago did they leave?” Swan, having compartmentalized the information, slipped directly into the detached, hardheaded demeanor he’d encountered on the beanstalk.

With a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a belch, Keith answered, “Can’t say for sure. Maybe an hour or more?”

“Any idea where they were going?”

“None.”

After a few heartbeats, Emma confirmed that his answer was honest. “Let’s go. Keith, you have to leave, too. Go home.”

“But I was-”

“Going home,” Killian finished for him. “Door’s that way.”

When they had escorted a stumbling Keith out into the street, mid-morning sun brighter in spite of its watery weakness, the man squinted in pain and lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the building. “I’ll just text…” He rubbed at his arm. “I’ll text someone to come get me.”

“Great,” Graham said, “because we need to get going. Emma? Where to next?”

Swan was already moving towards her yellow contraption. “We should contact my dad again, let him know Blackbeard and Mim are probably together. He can-”

“Killian!”

From across the street, a female voice bubbled with joy, melodious as a wind chime, and he spun to find the source.

A small woman with dark hair was rushing toward him, feet quickening as she pushed a pram. See seemed familiar in the vaguest sense; her face was one he’d seen before, but associated with nothing he truly wished to recollect…

As she closed the gap between them, she did not falter. She pushed the buggy to the side, pulled a small lever near its wheels which he assumed would keep it stationary, then straightened, facing him-

And promptly threw herself against him, briefly pressing her mouth to the side of his face; not with the passion of a lover, but the camaraderie and affection of a sibling. “Killian, I am so happy you are back. I wanted to visit you sooner, but Emma thought you might…not be happy to see me. But, for what you did for me and Reynard in the Underworld, I want to say thank you, thank you, thank you. I could say it a million times and it wouldn’t be enough, but thank you.” Inching back and allowing him some space, she bestowed him with a lovely smile, paired with the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen.

Seen before.

He knew this woman.

“Apologies, lass, I am not-”

“Belle,” Emma said, tensing as she watched Killian, as if waiting for a reaction, “I think you should head home or to the library and lock up. We’ve got a problem.”

The woman frowned. “A problem? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And then the memory hit him: The evil queen’s dank, cheerless castle, and a girl who was supposed to be helpless, yet carried herself with a quiet, defiant strength when refusing to assist him. Belle. The crocodile’s maid. She had been brought along in the curse, more than twenty-eight years ago.

He’d struck her back then, and yet here she was, thanking him profusely for something he had no recollection of doing.

“There may be an…” Emma broke off to sigh irritably, if subtly, as of wishing she didn’t have to say the words. “An evil fairy on the loose. Just don’t tell Leroy yet. I know he’s your friend, but I don’t want to panic the whole town.”

“Err…Sure?” Belle shook her head. “Wait, a fairy? Do you know who it is? Because I can do some research, if you need me to.”

“Thank you for the offer, but we know what we’re up against, this time. Just take Reynard and stay safe.”

His processing of the situation at last complete, Killian signaled the maid, reclaiming her attentions. “You were the lass in the castle. The one I attacked. Why are you not afraid of me?”

“Because you’re not going to hurt me again.” She said it with such confidence, Killian almost found himself nodding in agreement. “You may have darkness in you, but it doesn’t need to define you. Come here.”

“Belle…” Emma said, sounding nervous.

“It’s okay, Emma. You said yourself, he wouldn’t hurt a baby.” Peeling back the blanket covering the pram, Belle invited Killian to glance inside. “Meet my son, Reynard. He’s here because of you.”

Startled, Killian felt an internal panic. Was every bloody woman in this town determined to believe he was their child’s father, then?

Seeing his startled look, Belle giggled. “Not like that! You saved him before he was even born. See?”

Curiosity getting the better of him, Killian observed the infant.

If Ariadne was the portrait of robust health and vivacity that drew admirers with her innocent beauty, Belle’s poor lad was the complete opposite.

Sallow, paper-thin skin stretched across the little fellow’s skull, an intricate spiderweb of blue veins prominent beneath it. Although his features were not distorted, his lids partially covered his eyes, as though he were permanently fighting exhaustion. A patch of sandy brown hair, barely visible, was smoothed against the top of his head. Aside from the ravaging illness, he was a handsome baby.

Unfortunately for Belle and the lad, it was obvious to Killian that the infant was dying. Slowly, perhaps, but dying all the same.

The weakness of the boy’s chest as it rose and fell, and the dull lifelessness haunting his eyes, was more harrowing to see than all the rest.

Killian didn’t consider himself a particularly tactful or sympathetic person, and ordinarily he wouldn’t have been troubled over injuring the sentiments of the crocodile’s starry-eyed admirer, but as he’d told Graham, even his cruelty had limits. “A fine baby, to be sure,” he said at last, while wondering, “Is the Dark One his father?”

“Thank you, Killian,” Belle said. “I appreciate your sensitivity. I may not have much time left with him, but what I do have is thanks to you. And I will never forget it.”

All on its own, Killian’s hand reached up to scrub the back of his neck uncomfortably. Receiving unwarranted praise was bad enough, but when extended by a woman who was a victim of his villainy, it was even worse.

He was spared from answering when a shadow, large enough to canvas half of the street, drifted by, along with an accompanying breeze.

Each of them lifted their heads. Soaring in the air was a dragon, black scales shining and leathery wings stretched taut. With a grace that contradicted its size, the beast circled once and came to a featherlight landing in the middle of the road.

“Swan,” he said, hand on his cutlass. “That is the dragon you recruited earlier, I presume?” He was fairly sure of the supposition, but now that Mim probably had her wand, there was an outside chance... “If not, take the baby inside.” A shame Graham was not minding the infant; Killian would much rather have Emma and her magic at his side.

“It’s all right. That’s Lily.”

As Killian watched, the enormous dragon dwindled, heavy scales becoming soft skin, and deadly talons morphing into hands and feet. Eventually, all that was left of the monster was a woman around Emma’s age, with pretty, petulant features and dark hair. “I did an aerial search of the whole town, and came up with nothing,” she announced to the group as she stomped her way over to them. “If Blackbeard is out there, he disguised himself.”

Swan’s face transitioned from thwarted to thoughtful as she mulled over the information. “Disguise, huh? That’s really brilliant, Lily.”

The dragon woman’s lower lip flattened. “Thanks for the sarcasm. First you stick me with the dwarfs and Prince Dropped-me-through-a-portal, now you’re mocking me? Last time I help out.”

“No, she meant it, Lily,” Graham told her with a disarming smile. “We had a witness say Blackbeard is traveling with Mim, who may have magic now. She could have disguised them both. You were fantastic.”

Killian waited with impatient sort of tolerance as Lily’s face and neck became red, and she mumbled shyly, “Thanks, Graham.”

Wanting to hasten through the delay, Killian said, “Swan, if she didn’t see the fairy, perhaps we should resume our search?”

Ariadne, from the baby pack, gurgled and circled her legs like little oars. Emma, shading the baby’s eyes from the sun with her hand, said in a pleased manner, “And here I thought I was forcing you along on this trip. Suddenly, you’re all ready to go. Why the change of heart, Killian?”

“Because now we know Mim and Blackbeard are in league, and there is only one goal on Blackbeard’s mind. My ship.”

Emma was quick to reassure him. “It’ll be safe. No matter what power the wand could give her, she can’t break the blood lock.”

“That may be so, but I want to free myself of this nuisance, once and for all,” Killian explained, thinking of the dagger. He had not come all this way, let the memory of his beloved Milah suffer through all these years, to be hindered by Blackbeard of all people at the very end of his quest. “I am with you until we find them, Swan.”

“Good,” she said, and he didn’t miss the subtle longing in the word.

The Underworld

One year ago

“Henry Daniel Mills,” Regina shrugged off her coat as the entire group began shuffling into Emma’s house, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Presenting his most innocent face, Henry protested, “Why? Everything worked out, Mom! Grandma recruited Hercules, we were able to defeat Cerberus, Herc and Meg got to move on, and everyone’s safe! I mean, we did also find out from Meg only the dead can get into Hades’ dungeon, but other than that-”

Emma had to give him credit; he hadn’t tried the ‘charming little boy’ tactic in a long time, but it wasn’t going to work. “Oh, no. Regina’s right, mister,” she reprimanded grimly. “You knew perfectly well you weren’t supposed to follow us to that cave. You were supposed to wait in the house until we came back. That thing could have killed you.”

Henry dropped his head, and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Mom. I wanted to help, that’s all.”

Tears suddenly brimming in her eyes, Emma pulled him to her and hugged him close. “I know.”

Every part of Killian hurt.

How, he kept pondering, could he hurt when he was dead?

At least that demon of a dog had not appeared to torment him for several hours, allowing him time to rest and recuperate – such as he was, lying on cold stone and struggling to breathe.

Worse was the pain of knowing Emma was here. She’d contacted him, and even in all his delirium from the torture, he’d known it was real.

He’d asked the girl, Meg, to find his love, if only so he could tell Emma to give up this insane plan and march her family right back to Storybrooke.

“Well, well, look what the three-headed dog dragged in. Who would have thought, when we jumped through that portal, that our journey would end here?”

Killian turned his neck, skull rolling across the rough rock, and saw Cora, watching him with ironic twist to her mouth.

“Cora,” he mumbled, voice scratchy and raw, having not utilized it since screaming as Cerberus tore into him. “Lovely to see you again. I don’t suppose you would be willing to help me, for old time’s sake?”

Laughing sharply, angrily, Cora said, “Even if I wanted to, does it look to you like I am in any position to help you? The only reason I found you is because I was making my rounds. I’ve lost any peace I had here. I’ve heard there is freedom in death, but this isn’t it.”

Killian wiped at his good eye with the back of his hand, finally noticing the rags draped over her, and the wheelbarrow of flour beside her. “Well, you must have done something to enrage our resident overseer,” he observed.

“Just trying to save my daughter,” Cora spat. “Who by the way, is here because of you. How precisely did you die?”

Because of my own weakness. My own failings. “Beyond the fact that it was my fault, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yet your beloved Swan girl dragged everyone down here with her to rescue you.”

“I didn’t ask her to,” Killian said weakly, wanting to turn over and face away from her, but not quite able to summon the energy, “I didn’t want her to. They shouldn’t have come, and if I could talk to Emma now, I’d tell her that.”

“Hmm.” Striding forward, Cora grabbed his right arm. Her grip was reminiscent of her personality: deceptively insidious, like a flower made of iron. She stared at his wrist, where the sleeve was torn, taking in the red of the heart, and the raw image of the dagger running through it. “ ‘Milah’? I assume this is the woman who started this obsession with the Dark One?”

“It is nothing I wish to discuss with you, if it’s all the same.”

“That is too bad. It just so happens, I ran into a woman in this dungeon with the same name. Dark hair, quite mouthy.”

“Milah is trapped in this prison, too?” Killian asked, simmering with anger. He could not imagine being subjected to this torment for as long as Milah had been dead. The thought was unbearable.

“Heavens, no. She works here. She has a cushy job, too; Hades seems to favor her.” Cora lifted her chin, and Killian suddenly saw a queen in her stature again, and not a downtrodden peasant woman. “If I got word to her, I would bet she could get here and rescue you. Then you could convince Regina to leave this place.”

“Would Milah receive punishment if she did aid me?” Killian asked, uncertain.

“Probably not. As I said, she gets along swimmingly with Hades. I will send her. All I ask is that once you’re free, you get me out of here.”

Taking another ragged breath, Killian promised, “I will.”

Chapter Text

Present Day

Storybrooke

“I’m going to go get my wings now,” Mim proclaimed as she and Blackbeard left the docks, taking a street in the opposite direction from which they’d arrived. “You may join me, or not – if you don’t bother me.”

“Wait,” Blackbeard growled, lengthening his stride until he could cut her off, standing in her path belligerently. “I thought we were going to collect what we need for the blood magic.”

Flexing her fingers around the wand, the fairy lowered her chin and glared at him through a curtain of hair. “You obtuse moron. Do you hear that?”

Blackbeard listened, but all he could pick up was the distant, whirring surf of the ocean. “What am I listening for?”

Extending her arm, she pointed to the sky. “That.”

He heard a rustling, as of wind snapping in sails, and followed the sound. Above them, circling like a harbinger of death, was a full-sized, deadly dragon.

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Blackbeard fought the urge to run back to the docks, dive into the water, and stay submerged until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He was no coward, but he’d rather face an ogre than a dragon.

“Where did that come from?” he hissed, clutching at his pistol. For all the good it would do against the beast.

A bit too calmly for his comfort, she answered, “It is Maleficent, or her daughter. They are looking for us, pirate.”

“It will spot us,” he said hoarsely. “If it hasn’t already.” His gaze darted around, panicked, looking for a place to take cover. The bait shop?

“No, it will not. I have a glamor spell over us. But I cannot, and will not, go up against it until I have my wings back. Your ship isn’t going anywhere for the moment, so it is not the priority.”

Blackbeard felt it was better not to argue when an animal that could swallow him whole was trolling the sky like some flying barracuda.

“How could you lose your wings?” he whispered nastily, flinching despite himself as the behemoth changed direction and inclined lazily towards the docks. “They’re attached to you!”

“Probably for the same reason your ship is not in your possession. I didn’t lose them, they were stolen. How have you lived this long being this incompetent?”

“Says the woman who lived the last thirty years working in a dingy tavern instead of finding a way to get her wand on her own!” he goaded, due to the uncontrollable terror of the dragon provoking his fighting instincts.

They watched in silence, then, as the dragon swooped away, back over the heart of the town, before beginning a descent and disappearing amongst the buildings.

Finally, Mim spoke. “Never mind. I am not going to be brought into a childish argument with an ill-bred brute at a time like this. Keep quiet and follow me.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Regina grumbled, uncharacteristically ill at ease as she played with a tassel of a throw pillow she’d found on the living room furniture.

Emma, who had been staring at her crib, lost in her own thoughts, blinked a few times to reorient herself, while Mary Margaret glanced up from checking the bowstring on her weapon and asked, “What do you mean, Regina?”

“Hades’ offer, for Graham. I know you think I should do it,” she said, almost challengingly.

Emma knew why. When faced with internal struggles, she herself locked everything in and shoved people away, while Regina tended towards vocalizing her frustrations as her defense. Graham must have been heavily weighing on her conscience, for Emma could almost see the guilt unraveling her.

Mary Margaret, as understandingly as Emma had ever heard her, pointed out, “Nobody’s said anything like that.”

“But you’re thinking it, which is almost the same thing.”

“Regina-”

Caught between frustration and apprehension, Regina said miserably, “I don’t know the answer. Just tell me what to do! Please!”

Forbearing, Mary Margaret walked to her side and took the pillow away, impelling Regina to concentrate on her. “Nobody can make this choice for you.”

“You’ll make the right choice, Regina,” Robin said stalwartly, taking her hand. “All on your own. I know you, and I have faith in you.”

Between Mary Margaret’s comfort and Robin’s belief, Regina found a sense of calm again. She gave her soulmate a quiet smile, one borne of a secret understanding and a bond shared between lovers. “Robin, thank you,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I hope you’re right.”

It hurt Emma to watch them, even as she was glad they had each other. She found herself redirecting her gaze, back to the crib.

David, who had been peering out of the glass doors, was considering their other responsibilities. “I don’t mean to take away from your decision about Graham, but we still need to figure out how to get to Hook. We need to get into that dungeon. Detention area. Whatever. Maybe we can find an alternate entrance. There must be more than the cave.”

Strategy, Emma could do. “Not only that, we need to be smarter about how we’re conducting this rescue. Do we do our searching while it’s light out, or at night? Are there any other defenses besides that dog thing we killed? Can we rally any of these souls in the Underworld to our side, against Hades? We might have to, if what Meg said was true, and only the dead can enter that part of the Underworld.”

“One would assume a reasonably intelligent person would have already thought of these things, and come up with some form of a plan before charging into hell; but then, I have known all of you too long to know better than to expect sensibility.”

Rumpelstiltskin. He hadn’t made the slightest noise entering the house; Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d poofed inside for dramatic effect. “What do you want?”

Eyes lingering on the nursery, the man offered a faint smile. “I want to go home and see my wife. But, since relying on you to accomplish anything, much less outwit Hades, is a fool’s errand, I decided to move things along, and help you out. Because it’s obvious you are never going to succeed at this rescue without me.”

Helping a man he hated? Just to return home a few hours sooner than he otherwise might? “Uh-huh. Why do you really want to go back home so badly?”

Disparagingly, yet distractedly, he offered with more than a little rhetoric, “Do you think yours is the only love story worth chasing after, worth having?” Lifting his index finger, he finished, “I only want to be with Belle. End of story.”

Lying. Maybe only partially, but he’s still concealing something. Even if she hadn’t had her superpower, Emma had spent enough time studying people in her bailbondsperson days to know he was holding back. There was a restless anxiousness to him; and for the first time since Neal had died, an anticipation flourished there, a pulse.

Rumpelstiltskin had some new factor to consider, outside of Belle, that much was obvious. Emma would have to pay close attention to him for the remainder of their mission. “Okay, then. You have a plan?”

“I do. As the prince was saying, there are multiple entrances to the dungeon. The problem is, Hades knows you are going to keep trying to get to Hook, so he will have put up barriers, to keep the living from entering. One step into his lair, and we will be nothing more than a mound of dust.” “Then how are we supposed to get in?” Mary Margaret asked, untwisting the strap of her quiver before re-buckling it over her shoulder.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that detail. Not all of us are going – do you really think Hades and his minions wouldn’t notice seven of us traipsing around his detention area? Ms. Swan and I will go. I can extend the aura of your dead friend the deputy, and with his assistance, we should be able to slip in undetected. The rest of you can do what you will, in the meantime. Might I suggest -”

“Discovering a way out of here.” Regina glared at her former teacher. “We’re not as stupid as you think we are. Sadly, the only escape route I knew of was promised to me by my mother, and I didn’t take it. It’s gone now, so we’ll have to go searching for an alternative.”

“David and I will come with you,” Mary Margaret stated, in a tone that made Emma understand how she was able to gain the support of the villagers in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago, even while on the run as a bandit.

“What about Henry and me?” Robin asked,

Regina pulled on her gloves. “I don’t want Henry in the path of Underworld monsters again. You two are going to search my office. In Storybrooke, I had maps of the entire town, and it seems everything in... ‘Underbrooke’...has an analog to the real town. Maybe, just maybe, those maps will show us an exit somewhere in this place. My mother isn’t there anymore, so it will be empty. It should be safe.”

“Sounds good,” Emma approved. “Gold, I’ll track down Graham, and then we can try to find one of those entrances to the detention area that you talked about.”

“Oh, I already know where one is. Look over there, dearie.”

Dueling with Gold in one of his games was not as appealing to Emma as getting to Killian, so she tolerantly did as he asked. “Through my basement? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not at all. Remember, in the real Storybrooke, it held the stone of Excalibur. Your pirate has a knack for discovering valuable real estate. Come along, contact the deputy. We have work to do.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Mim?”

The small, energetic woman who had answered the door tried to shut it again, just as quickly as she had opened it.

Blackbeard shoved his boot inside the convent, and the door bounced off his foot.

“Hello, Tinkerbell,” Mim greeted serenely. “I had hoped you were smart enough to cut ties with Blue completely, after she shunned you, but it seems I was hoping for too much.”

“I was visiting. Move your foot!” the self-appointed gatekeeper demanded of Blackbeard.

A spitfire, this wench. “Oh, I think not, lass,” he informed her cheerily. “I’d advise you to back away.” He gave her this as a last warning, while at the same time, eagerly making enough room for Mim to press an attack.

“You two are awfully bold, coming right to the door in broad daylight,” Tinkerbell said hotly, giving them no quarter. “Your wand was missing from the convent this morning, Mim. Blue called me to help find it, and now you just happen to show up.

“No need to make insinuations. I’ve always liked to be direct. Unlike Blue.”

In an instant, the smaller fairy was holding a wand, plainer than Mim’s, brandishing it like a sword. “Don’t think I won’t use this. If Neverland taught me anything, it’s how to defend myself.”

Shifting his weight to his back foot, Blackbeard sighed. “Ladies, I don’t know if either of you have been in a duel before; but for reference, typically there is a lot less talking and a lot more fighting. Shall we?”

Tinkerbell gave him a dirty look, and Mim used the distraction as an opportunity to display her own wand. Elbowing Blackbeard out of her way, she shot a blot of light from the end of the magic stick.

The spark of energy hit Tinkerbell in the chest, and the fairy spun away from the door with a harsh cry. Falling against the wall, she crashed into a potted plant, and lost hold of her wand, which clattered across the floor and out of Blackbeard’s line of sight.

Primly, Mim stepped across the threshold of the fairies’ domicile, pushing the door fully open. “Stay behind me, pirate. She won’t be the only one with a wand.”

Blackbeard followed, warily treading by the fallen fairy. Tinkerbell appeared to be unconscious or dead at the hands of Mim, but he felt no need to stop and check.

A dormant part of his consciousness wondered if he was seeing his own fate. Trying to shake the feeling away, he reminded himself that as soon as the ship was in his possession, he could escape the witch and flee back to his own realm.

They continued into the center of the building, Blackbeard checking over his shoulder every few minutes. He would have been hard pressed to admit it, but he knew he would be outmatched against a magical being.

He hadn’t a clue if Mim was being literal or metaphorical about her wings. It didn’t matter to him, since he knew that either way, it wouldn’t be as simple as happening upon a pair, pinned onto the convent wall. He had to hope Mim knew what she was doing.

“You know where you’re going, don’t you?” he asked suspiciously as they came upon a small, narrow staircase. He thought he could smell food cooking somewhere nearby.

No answer.

“Don’t you? This isn’t the main stairwell. I used a different one last night, when I stole the wand. Tell me you’re not lost.”

“I told you that you could accompany me, not that you could speak. Be silent,” was the terse reply, just before two more of the convent’s dwellers, deep in conversation, emerged from a room far ahead and to the left.

They did not even get a chance to draw their wands before Mim lifted her own. Hot magic rippled like a current through the air, and the afterimage burned into Blackbeard’s eyes, an odor similar to the expulsion of cannon powder wafting through the hall.

The women convulsed, hitting the floor hard, bodies quivering with tremors until the magic passed through their systems. Blackbeard mentally replaced their faces with those of the Queen of Arendelle and her sister, the wenches who had shrunk and bottled his ship before imprisoning him, and was satisfied with the image.

Drawn by the noise, another fairy scrambled down the staircase, emitting a small cry when she saw her fallen comrades. Without heed to danger or her own personal safety, she rushed to their side and began to check their pulses.

“Not to worry, Nova,” Mim said, oozing a kindness that Blackbeard knew she didn’t possess. The other woman’s head shot up, and Blackbeard could sense the dread emanating from her. “I would not kill my sisters. They will be all right. I just need to talk to Blue without any disturbances.”

“And you thought violence was the best way to do that?”

“If it obtains everyone here their freedom, a bit of suffering in the short term is a small burden, I would think.”

Wiping her eyes, the woman firmed her trembling mouth stubbornly. “What do you mean, ‘freedom’? I am not a prisoner!”

“Aren’t you? Tinkerbell, Black Fairy, me, all banished; and you – you and your dwarf, unable to live your lives together publicly, for fear of what Blue would do if she found out. Is that fair? Is that just?”

“I may not know you other than the legends – you were banished long before my time – but I do know that right now, the only thing to fear in this place is you!”

“Oh, well,” Mim sighed, using her wand to decommission what Blackbeard considered the weakest of the opposition yet. “Seems you were right, Captain. Talking is getting me nowhere.”

“Why talk when we can take?” Blackbeard responded absently, filching a gold embossed wall decoration that had caught his eye.

“That isn’t real, you know,” Mim informed him.

Sulkily, he tossed it aside. “This world is all about show. It may look good, but it’s fraudulent.”

“How wonderful to be paired with a philosophizing pirate.” Clutching the banister of the staircase, Mim began to ascend to the second floor.

Blackbeard followed, drawing his pistol. He didn’t consider rendering the enemy unconscious to be evening the odds; like any buccaneer, he preferred to finish them off and not look back. “You can really defeat this Fairy Leader?”

Mute, she began to take the stairs two at a time. Whether this was because she was ignoring him again, or wasn’t sure of the answer herself, was beyond his guess. He was more in the habit of making people bleed than trying to read them.

As Mim reached the top step, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the second floor. Wildly, Blackbeard brought his pistol to bear, but his ally was already on the move. Another blast of her wand, and the noise abruptly cut off.

Peering through the rails of the banister, Blackbeard spied a woman in a heap on the floor, her straight black hair spilled over the floor. Smart lass, that one, he realized grudgingly. There would now be a swarm of them descending on the noise.

“Get ready,” warned Mim. “If you can, try not to kill them. I would like them alive.”

He had no time to wonder about the peculiar orders before the second floor burst to life. Fairies arrived in twos and threes, uniting in a solid throng to head them off.

Cocking the hammer of his weapon, Blackbeard wet his lips and began to choose his target. He had the clearest shot at a taller fairy with curly hair…

“Stop! Please, sisters, I will handle this.”

The cluster parted, and a woman of average height and large, judgmental eyes stepped through and walked to Mim, stopping a few feet in front of her and clasping her hands together in a habitual manner.

“I thought you might come. Hello, Purple,” she said, poised and quiet.

“Reul Ghorm.” Mim spoke with a similar calm, but it was the composure of a wolf closing in on a kill after days on the hunt.

“You’ve come for revenge,” the Blue fairy said sadly.

“I’ve come for my wings. And to set things to the way they were meant to be.”

Stepping backwards, Mim never broke eye contact as she backtracked to her unconscious kin. “Why did you do this, Purple? There was no reason to hurt her.” She brushed a hand over the girl’s forehead, imbuing her powers; and with a gasp, the unconscious fairy woke.

“What-” she gasped.

“It is all right. The sisters will help you. You’re going to be all right.”

Thus assured, the fairy allowed her leader to help her stand, and then she wobbled over to the helping arms of the rest of her kind.

“My wings,” Mim repeated. “Return them. You did for Tinkerbell, so I know that they are here, and that it is possible.”

Bolder than he would have expected from one so controlled, the Blue fairy replied, “You have not earned them back in the same way Green did hers. After what you have done to this sister, and I suspect others, it is clear you still have a long way to go.”

In a motion that was almost too fast for the naked eye, Mim released what appeared to be a lightening flash from her wand.

With even quicker reflexes, Blue erected a glassy shield in front of herself and the other fairies. The bolt struck the barricade, and electricity crackled erratically across it before being absorbed into the edges of the safeguard.

Blackbeard fired his pistol, aiming for Blue, but her shield caused it to ricochet into the wall, lodging firmly into a painting of some stuffy-looking octogenarian.

Mim scowled at him as if he’d tried to shoot her. “Don’t do that again. You’re more likely to kill us than hit them.”

From behind the buffer, Blue lobbed some magic at her, probably meant only to incapacitate, given her pious standing.

Mim threw herself aside, dodging awkwardly and bouncing off a kneecap as she landed. Somehow managing to turn the clumsy movement into a roll, she tucked herself up and flew to her feet again, then extended her hand.

Blue began pawing at her throat and gasping, eyes bugged as she choked.

“Return me to my true form, ‘Reul Ghorm’,” Mim commanded, anything resembling humanity gone from her voice. “Return me to my true form, and return my wings, or you die today.”

Nervously, Blackbeard retreated a few steps back down the stairs. He hadn’t realized that sorcery could be completely unseen, and yet remain so deathly effective.

As Blue fought the power constricting her throat, her shield began to weaken as gaps started to appear in its translucent form.

Taking the necessities from a pouch on his bandolier, Blackbeard began to reload his pistol as quickly as possible.

The other fairies, recognizing the same inevitable outcome, at last stepped up to help. As if by some unspoken agreement, half of them drew their wands, and the other half closed their eyes. Blackbeard could not understand what they were doing until the defects in the barricade began to repair themselves.

With all the magic in their weaponized wands, the fairies on the offensive lashed out towards Mim. Bright lights, not as robust but also less unhinged than Mim’s lightening, slashed across the convent.

Forced to loosen her hold on Blue, Mim surrounded herself with a lavender bubble, and every bolts save one was deflected off its surface.

Fingertips grazing the side of her face, where the rogue magic that had made it through the bubble had burned a red line into her cheek. Mim hissed like an animal in the steel maw of a trap, and Blue collapsed to her knees, coughing, finally released.

“You will not win, Mim,” the head fairy rasped. “I know your weakness. You will not be getting your wings today. I will, however, grant your other request.”

Blue flicked her fingers, and inside the bubble, Mim changed.

She lost at least a third of a meter in height, and her hair went from sleek and thick to flat and fine. Her cheekbones lost their definition, and her eyes lost their rich hue.

A wide, satisfied smile crossed her face at the change. “Well, that is much better. Now for the rest of it.” She lifted the wand again, and-

Nothing happened.

Panic, however subtle, crossed Mim’s – if she was still Mim’s – face, and she shook the wand, trying to stimulate it.

Once more, nothing.

Her bubble disappeared, and Mim rushed across the room to Blackbeard, grabbing the front of his jacket. A cloud of purple smoke enveloped them –

And then they were somewhere else entirely, leaving Blackbeard to wonder exactly what was happening.

“Y’know, when I agreed to this, I guess I thought I would be searching with you and Graham.”

The comment was made almost offhand by Lily, but Emma wondered if there was more to what she was saying.

Hooking her thumb under one of the straps of the baby carrier and sliding it to a more comfortable position, Emma said, “Oh. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to rope you into something you didn’t want to do.” She slid her hands over Ariadne’s tiny mitten-covered ones, hoping the baby wouldn’t catch a chill while she and Lily stood guard in the cemetery, waiting beside the cavernous vault belonging to Regina.

Lily retied her blue scarf, then bit absently at a hangnail as she contemplatively searched the barren graveyard. “No. Storybrooke is where I live now, so I’m going to do my part. That’s why I came. It’s just…I thought I would be working with you guys.”

‘You guys’, not ‘You’, Emma noted silently. If Emma wasn’t the person that Lily was eager to spend time with, then-

“Vault looks secure,” Graham reported dutifully as he and Killian appeared from the depths of Regina’s stronghold. “If Mim was searching for more magic to enhance her wand, it doesn’t look like she came here. Of course, you might want to call the Queen and have her take a look, just in case.”

Lily’s eyelids fluttered reflexively in response to his voice, and Emma could hear her breath catch.

Oh.

“I’ll text her, but I trust your judgment,” Emma told Graham, while Killian stood thoughtfully at the threshold of the vault, peering back into what lay inside. “Let’s go. We’ll search somewhere else.”

“Where else could we go? We’ve already looked through her apartment,” Graham pointed out. “And she’d hidden or destroyed her most personal effects, specifically so you couldn’t use a locater spell.”

“Graham’s right. And we searched the Rabbit Hole twice,” Lily lamented. “Look, if she thinks the Blue fairy ruined her life-”

“Than we should be staking out the convent, waiting for her, because that is where she’ll show up eventually,” Killian finished with grim understanding, closing the entrance to the vault. “Aye, lass. Revenge. I’d do the same thing.”

“I would have too, once,” Lily mumbled, lowering her head and shuffling her feet. “Sorry, Emma. But thinking like her might be the only way to find her right now.”

“Agreed.” Taking her keys from her pocket, Emma started across the cemetery, rushing past the plain tombstone that read Killian Jones. She wanted to remove that as soon as possible. Now that Killian was alive, it was somehow disturbingly morbid to see it.

Ariadne squealed in surprise at the velocity, and Lily hustled to catch up with them, providing a perfect opportunity for Emma to ask her about Graham privately.

“Hi,” Emma greeted, throwing a quick glance behind her to make sure the men were out of earshot.

“Hey,” Lily panted, almost tripping over a clod of dirt. “You’re rushing out of here pretty fast.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Emma knew it wasn’t the best time to ask, but she probably wouldn’t have another opportunity for a long time.

“Okay?” Lily said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

They exited the cemetery. “Be tactful,” Emma reminded herself. Maybe if she asked in a roundabout way, the question would be less invasive...

“Are you interested in Graham?” was what she heard herself blurt out. “Way to go, Emma.”

After casting her own wary look back at Killian and Graham, Lily folded her arms, as if about to deny it. “Does that bother you?” she finally demanded, with a hint of irritability.

“Of course not. I was just wondering why you never asked him out.”

Relaxing, Lily grinned. “Kind of hard to do when I know the only woman anywhere on his radar definitely isn’t a brunette dragon,” she said, but there was more amusement than bitterness this time.

“Well, talking to him might be a start,” Emma said with a smile. Mary Margaret was much better at the heart-to-heart thing, but for her old friend, she would give it a try.

“Maybe,” Lily said noncommittally. “After this fairy crisis.”

“Trust me,” Emma said, remembering all the times she’d told herself the same thing. “The sooner, the better.”

A buzz from her phone ended their conversation, and Emma held the cell awkwardly in front of the baby pack to look at the text. She slowed her pace as she read, allowing Graham and Killian to join them.

“Guys, it looks like it’s too late. Mim hit the convent. We better get there now.”

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“No, Hades,” Killian mumbled, wondering if he was as incoherent as he felt. “I told you, I will not carve any names on tombstones. Condemn me, or do whatever you will, but you shall not make me do it.” After another session of torturous agony, Hades had dumped him back on his rocky slab of a holding area. If the god had come for another round so soon, Killian felt sure that even his soul was going to disintegrate.

“Killian, my love, hush, hush. It’s me!”

The hands touching him did not torment, did not bruise, and Killian slowly opened his useable eye, daring to hope that some fresh torture was not coming his way.

She was standing over him, more like a dream of the woman he’d loved than the real thing; and for all of the recreations he’d made of her in his memories, somehow she was still more lovely than even he’d remembered.

“Milah?” he wondered. “Are you really here?”

She lifted him to a sitting position as tenderly as possible, but it still pained him greatly. “Yes. Your friend Cora found me. I can’t believe this…You were here, and I didn’t know…Have you been here this whole time?” She sounded nauseated while asking it. “All these hundreds of years?”

“It hasn’t been long,” he mumbled, though his body was telling him it had been longer than he’d wanted.

Without another word, she hugged him fiercely, and then took a corner from her shirt and began wiping some of the blood from his face. She was wearing clothing in the style preferred in the Land Without Magic, which Killian would have found curious, if he could have fully cleared the dizzying pain from his mind.

“It’s no good,” she sighed at last. “I’ll have to clean you up back at my place. Can you stand, sweetheart?”

“Whether I can or not, I have to,” he grunted, moving his legs in preparation to stand. He had to get to Emma.

“Take my arm. Easy now,” Milah encouraged, and somehow they swayed together until he had wobbled to his feet. “The exit is in this direction. There is a cave that leads out of here. Cerberus is gone – some group of interlopers killed them. Hades is angry and distracted, so the way should be clear. Ready?”

In response, Killian moved a foot forward.

Emma sat next to Graham inside the boat, trying not to look too closely at the water and the eerie, glowing bodies that floated like fireflies within it. ‘River of Lost Souls’, Gold had called it, and she didn’t have to be told twice to avoid it. Just its proximity made her uneasy.

“Did we really have to float across this thing?” Emma asked.

“Well I did tell you, dearie; now that you’ve disrupted the little kingdom Hades has built, he will want to punish you. Why not start with completely obliterating your boyfriend’s soul? Believe me, the pirate will indeed be here – for how long, who knows?”

Graham flattened his palm over her back. “We’ll make it in time. Don’t worry.”

The gesture was small but comforting, and Emma accepted it gratefully.

When the boat came to a stony landing, Gold gestured for Emma to get up. “See that sign? ‘Abandon hope ye who enter here’? That is where you will find Hook. Don’t take too long.”

“You’re not coming?” Emma asked, immediately on the alert. She had no plans to play into his agenda.

“Who am I to interfere with what will no doubt be a romantic reunion? Besides, somebody has to stay behind and watch the boat,” he pointed out.

“How do I know you won’t steal it and sail out of the Underworld without us?” Emma cynically demanded, summoning her reserves of magic in case it came to a fight.

“And leave my grandson trapped here?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He’d barely even looked at Henry since the Snow Queen’s defeat.

As if he was dealing with an insubordinate child, Gold looked skyward, sighing. Standing, he stepped out of the boat. “If it will ease your mind, put a protection spell around it. I don’t care. I suppose I could break it eventually, but against savior magic, it would take me at least a few hours. Plenty of time to get your pirate and return, no?”

Emma looked beside her and saw Graham waiting on her decision, an air of mildness surrounding him. “I’d offer to stay with the boat and keep an eye on him, but I’m afraid there wouldn’t be much I could do to stop him.”

Conceding the point, Emma gave a tiny nod. To Gold, she instructed, “Don’t even think about doing something behind our backs. We will be back in five minutes.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Lady Bell. I am happy to see you escaped Neverland.”

“That makes two of us.” Holding a cloth to her forehead with one hand, Tinkerbell swung open the door to the convent and ushered the group inside with the other. “Hello, Hook. Glad you’re back.”

“Yes, I’ve been hearing a lot of that the last couple days,” Killian told her, winking at his former companion. “I have to be honest, from the way you talked back then, I am somewhat surprised to see you amongst those who banished you. What happened to your head, lass?”

“I had a run-in with a purple witch and her pirate lackey.” Removing the rag from her skin, Tinkerbell glanced at the bloodstains she’d left, folded the cloth in half, and then reapplied the clean side to her wound. “She knocked me into a planter. It’s in a lot more pieces than I am. I’d like to say it’s because I’m just that tough, but unfortunately, I’m pretty sure it’s only because Mim was taking it easy on me and the other fairies for some reason. Kind of scary, because she wouldn’t do that unless it was part of her plan.”

“Want me to heal that?” Swan offered, a sleepy Ariadne strapped to her front, and Killian was reminded of how, in spite of her gruffness, she often concerned herself with the wellbeing of others. The giant’s story of how Emma had gained the compass had given him the first hint of that.

“Nah. I became pretty adaptable during my banishment. This is nothing,” Tinkerbell assured Swan. “Blue should be here any second. She’s seeing to the other fairies who were attacked, but she knows you were coming. Is David on his way?”

“He decided to keep patrolling with the dwarfs, since Blue’s text said Mim and Blackbeard are still at large,” Graham told her. “Lily is out there too, somewhere in the sky again. Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

“I didn’t see much,” Tinkerbell said regretfully. “I’m sorry. I was the first one she got past. I feel like such an idiot. I should have hit them with a sleeping spell the second I saw them. I’m just glad the others were able to stop her.”

“Hey, it’s all right,” Swan said. “We’re going to catch them.”

“I know.” Tinkerbell nudged some dirt from the broken plant to the side of the entryway. “I just really hope it’s soon. She reminds me of Pan’s Shadow, only she carries out her own orders. Very dangerous.”

“Emma, thank you for returning so quickly.”

A harried Blue limped over to them, hair in disarray and soot streaked over her face, much of the dignity she’d had that morning lost during the attack on her home.

Emma hesitated, seeming to take stock of the fairy’s injuries. “Yeah. Want to tell me what happened? Or maybe you should go see Whale.”

“This? This is from Mim’s electrical attack. I can fix it.” Waving her wand, Blue healed herself completely, scars and grit fading until all evidence of her injuries had disappeared. Even her hairdo was perfected.

“So, I think we can safely assume Mim has the wand,” Emma said, signaling Graham, who produced his memo book and pen, and prepared to write.

“She does, I’m afraid.”

Tinkerbell opened a closet in the hall, brought forth a broom, and began sweeping the dirt into a pile with the hand that was not occupied with her injury. Killian knew the diversion well; as a cabin boy, he had often used the guise of chores when he’d wanted to eavesdrop. Sly Miss Bell.

Blue sadly took in the damage around her before continuing. “She came for her wings.”

Graham scribbled furiously.

Tinkerbell abruptly mishandled a chipped piece of the planter, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Her wings? You, like, have them here?” Emma asked, squinting, as if unsure whether to be impressed or disturbed.

“I do. Rest assured, she will not be getting them back if I can help it.”

Killian decided to insert a query of his own. “And what happens if she does?”

“She will be much more difficult to apprehend, more mobile.”

“A fairy doesn’t feel like a fairy without her wings,’ Tinkerbell interjected softly. “She won’t have full confidence back until she has them.”

Swan, despite being human, seemed to understand this well. “Okay, so she needs the wings to feel like a bada…” She broke off, considering the baby snuggled to her chest, and changed whatever she had been about to say “…witch again. What else does she want?”

“Technically she’s still not a fairy, even though she has her wand. She won’t be able to sustain the magic in that wand for long. Hence, her hasty retreat. She will need fairy dust, if she hopes to accomplish anything in the long run,” Blue explained. “The dwarfs have already gathered the greatest reserves from the Storybrooke mines, which we keep here at the convent; but theoretically, if she could get her hands on an ax, she could harvest her own. Not much, but enough to cause quite a bit of damage.”

“Fantastic,” Emma said, injecting her words with heavy sarcasm. “I can guess where she and Blackbeard are going next.”

“Yes, she was with a man dressed like a pirate,” Blue confirmed, “but I didn’t get the feeling they much cared for one another. Why are they working together?”

“We have some theories. Nothing confirmed,” Graham told her, head bent over his notes. “Is there anything else you can think of, Blue?”

“You will not be looking for the same woman,” Blue said, which caused Killian to watch her keenly, wondering why she hadn’t shared this information before.

“Well, what does that mean?” Graham asked, speaking Killian’s thoughts precisely.

“Her true self is not the one you are used to seeing. When she was a fairy, she enjoyed shapeshifting, just as Emma commented on this morning. When I made the decision to carry out the banishing, she had taken the form of an extraordinary beautiful human. It was one she used often, when teasing and taunting humans in the Enchanted Forest.” Wincing, as if reliving something painful, Blue expounded on her story. “The banishment trapped her in that body, which I hadn’t realized when I cast the spell to remove her wings. It seems she’s missed her true self, and when she was here today, she demanded I return her to the way she was. I had no idea…I am not a cruel fairy. Had I known, I would have switched her back when the curse broke.”

Tinkerbell abandoned all pretense of working on the mess, and they all absorbed the information, processing it each in their own ways.

“So, who are we looking for, then?” asked Swan, ever the pragmatist when it came to solving a puzzle. “Is she a strange, little old lady, like in the movie?”

Blue laughed. “Do any of the villains in this town look like they did in the movies? Of course not. She looks like an ordinary person, one you would see in any corner of the Enchanted Forest. That is what makes her so dangerous. Don’t overlook her.”

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“Ms. Swan! Help!”

The rocky, cavernous lair, with a circular platform and chains suspended over the river, was empty. If Killian had ever been there, he was gone, and she didn’t even have time to despair over the fact.

Emma broke into a run when she heard Gold’s cry, returning to where they’d landed the watercraft. Graham kept pace, feet moving in step with hers.

When they arrived back at the river, Gold was standing with his back to them, staring at the vacant spot where the boat had been.

Where the boat had been.

“What did you do with it?” Emma charged up to the Dark One and grabbed his collar roughly, jerking him around to face her. Anger and disappointment and fear stoked a preternatural fury within her, and she spoke gutturally. “What did you do with our boat?”

“It wasn’t m-”

“Bull. You lied about Killian. He wasn’t there. You lead us here to-”

One by one, he took hold of her fingers and pried them from his jacket. “Hades sunk the boat, Ms. Swan. Didn’t you hear me shout? I may have guessed wrong about Hook, but there is absolutely no benefit to me destroying what could possibly be our only route home.”

“Everything you do benefits you.”

Gold sighed. “It was all a trick, Ms. Swan. Isn’t it obvious? He knew we were here, he knew we were coming. Your pirate clearly is being held somewhere else. Hades is toying with us. We need to get back to your house, regroup, and plot our next course of action.”

“No. Trick or not, if we were able to get down here, we should use it to our advantage,” Graham said. “Let’s explore some other parts of the dungeon. We may yet be able to find Hook.”

Rumpelstiltskin, unamused at having his ideas contradicted, narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “And I think we need to retreat for the time being. This time, he destroyed the boat. Next time, it might be your soul. Is that really what you want, Huntsman?”

Emma felt her nostrils flare. “Leave him alone.”

How unfair was it of her to expect Graham to lay whatever was left of him on the line for a stranger? She thought, too, of the baby she had to protect inside her, and came to a decision. “Let’s go. We’ll find another way.”

Gold, knowing he’d won, lowered his head to hide his smile, and lifted his hands to teleport them home.

Storybrooke

Present Day

“What happened to you?” Blackbeard sputtered, his lungs itching to cough out magical smoke that was no longer there. They were standing on one of the black, hard-surfaced streets that crisscrossed this realm, surrounded by a forest of trees and brush. A few yards ahead, a reddish stripe was painted horizontally across the road.

There was nobody else around. As far as a retreat went, she had chosen the destination wisely. Despite that...“Are you even still Mim? The fairy-”

“Made me me again,” Mim exulted joyfully, hastily running her hands down her face and hair, in delirious disbelief at her new, nondescript self.

She wasn’t the only one.

“I don’t understand,” Blackbeard said, pulling down the brim of his tricorn hat. He’d thought he might have lost it in their transference. “You are...”

“This.” Genuinely delighted, Mim motioned to herself. It was the first time Blackbeard had seen her truly happy. “This is how I really look. This is who I am. I was stuck in that other form for far too long. It’s a marvelous thing, being who you truly are.” At his lack of enthusiasm and interest, Mim scoffed. “Forget it. Wasted ideas on your type, I suppose.”

Blackbeard wasn’t quite ready to join in her celebration. “Great. Terribly thrilled you’re pleased. But what happened in there? Or do you prefer running away like a coward?” He then tensed, wondering if he’d gone too far. Perhaps there was only so much provoking she could take before turning him into a toad.

“I prefer to choose my battles wisely. I still don’t have my wings, or my powers. My wand is the limit to my magic.” Still admiring herself, Mim spun in a circle like an impulsive child.

“Then we need to un-limit you.” By the gods, if this wench had wasted all her magic in the convent and spared nothing to collect what was needed to repossess his ship....

“Oh, we will. There is fairy dust in the mines of Storybrooke. Rumpelstiltskin stole all of it years ago, but it regenerates. Nevertheless, Blue will know my first move would be to go after it, and she’ll tell the Savior. They’ll be watching the mines. What we need is a diversion. And I think we can work one in that will solve both of our problems; we just have to wait.” From the pockets of the bartending uniform she was still sporting, she scrounged a pen. Sauntering towards him, she took his wrist and scrawled a mixture of numbers and letters onto the back of his hand. “Go to this address, and wait. When you see Swan arrive there, contact me. There is a cabin out here that has been abandoned; I will be there. Use that town map you stole from the library and come find me. Got it?”

Lost, Blackbeard could only agree. “Aye."

As dusk was painting its dark strokes over Storybrooke’s sky, Killian found himself at the docks with Emma and all of those who had, throughout the day, contributed to the search.

Dwarfs, men and women crowded in front of a tackle shop, trying to ignore the smell of the live bait.

Emma clutched the cuff of Killian’s jacket. “All right. I’m going to go talk to my dad and Graham, and we’ll work out how to have a ‘round the clock watch happen tonight. We’ll just be a minute, okay? I want to say goodbye to you, so...”

“I’ll wait,” he promised, peering up at the deck of his ship. Just as he’d hoped, Morgan was there, inspecting the rigging. Exactly the crew member he needed to see. “However, I must need to speak to my men for a moment.”

“Sure.”

When Killian stepped onto the ship, Smee shouted, “Captain on deck!” and each of his crew snapped to attention.

“Skylights,” Killian called, beckoning her to him.

“Aye, Captain?” Nimbly she climbed down the ropes of the mast, agile as any acrobat, meeting him on the deck with earnest attention.

“I need you to do me a favor, Lass. It’s probably the most important thing I have ever tasked you with. Are you willing to accept the responsibility?”

While Killian and his ‘allies’ had been uselessly waiting for Blackbeard and the fairy at the mines, with nothing to do but think, he had come to the conclusion that Smee might not be the optimal choice for his mission. His first mate did not routinely practice the art of subtlety.

“Indeed, sir. More than willing.”

“Good. I found Rumpelstiltskin’s dagger. The fairies have doubtless added several security measures since the attack today, and suspicion has already been cast on me, so I need somebody to acquire it for me. Somebody who, if seen, could blend in.”

“Me?” Morgan flashed a cocky grin. “Yes, of course. I can do it. Just watch me, sir. I can steal a pair of those ugly shoes and a habit, and if I tie my hair back and keep my head down, I can blend into the background. The nuns-”

“Will hopefully be too distracted to notice you, but do not become overconfident,” Killian warned. “They are waiting for another intrusion. Now, Swan extended an invitation to dine with her yesterday. I will see if the offer is still open. If I can secure arrangements, I will have an alibi with the town sheriff, and when the dagger is inevitably found missing, they will place culpability on another. Preferably Madam Mim and Blackbeard.”

He followed with quick description of where in the convent she could find the dagger.

“Very good, Captain. I will have it by morning.”

“See that you do. This – if I get the dagger, I will have nearly completed my quest.” He could almost see his goal, out on the horizon, as if it was a tangible thing. The hundreds of years of plotting, of waiting – it was nothing like this.

So why did that horizon of his achievement feel like a frigid, listless twilight, instead of the triumphal, bright sunrise that it should?

“I know, sir. And then?”

The question felt like a tub of fish guts being poured over him.

Then?

There was…there was…

No Milah. No revenge. Just a man and his ship.

“We’ll make our way to the Enchanted Forest, of course,” he said with forced heartiness. “Blackbeard came here, and claims to have a way back. The ogres destroyed much, but there is still plundering to be had. How would you like to be a pirate again, Lass?”

“More than anything,” Morgan insisted.

“You won’t miss this land? Surely there were things you enjoyed about it.” What, now he was trying to talk his crew into staying? Was he daft? “Conveniences, friends you made in town, perhaps a lad who caught your eye?”

“Well…I’ll miss my phone. And I was really looking forward to the next season of The Vampire Diaries.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to that, and she mistook his silence for reproach. “But not enough to stay here, of course. My life is the sea. Modern plumbing systems or no.”

With a stirring of pride for the girl, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have a sailor’s heart, Morgan. Keep that.”

“Always, sir,” she immediately boasted, pleased at his approval. Still a child in many ways, though nearing twenty years of age.

“Now, I need to do my part and go speak to Swan about dining together. Use discretion. If you believe there is even a chance you could be caught, don’t go through with it, or every man you see on this deck will be detained,” he warned.

“You can count on me,” she promised, a salty breeze whipping her red hair into her eyes. “I swear it.”

Leaving the ship’s deck, Killian spotted the beautiful, flaxen head bowed over the baby in her arms.

The sunrise.

Grimacing, he folded his arms. Now wasn’t the time to wax poetic, or go soft. This evening was all about misdirection; nothing more.

“Swan?” he called.

Chapter Text

As they traveled up the stairs into Emma’s home, Killian carrying the car seat in his hook, he complimented, “It’s a lovely abode, Swan. Not what I pictured you choosing, but lovely all the same.”

Oh, the irony of his observation. “Not really surprised you would think so, and we’ve sorta had this discussion before. You’re actually the one who picked it. So, good call on that.” She took his hand in hers, wanting to cross into the house together. He willingly tangled his fingers with hers.

While his request to spend the evening with them had been more than welcome, it had also been completely unanticipated – and, admittedly, suspicious. If he had ulterior motives for his visit, well...at least this way, she could keep her eye on him.

But the real reason she had accepted was so she could make some progress on reconciling with him, as returning his memory didn’t seem to be going anywhere. If she could sway him, help him realize he wanted to be a part of something in the same way she had years ago, maybe he would not follow through with whatever he was planning.

The fist step would be laying everything on the line, even the difficult parts of their history. If she expected his honesty, she had to give hers. Especially the difficult parts. But that could come later.

“Did I choose it?” he asked innocuously. She was still unsure if he was humoring her for his own ends or not, but she listened. “I can still smell the ocean. It would make sense I would choose something near the water, I suppose.”

With some careful maneuvering, they managed to enter the house together, along with the car seat containing Ariadne.

For the first time in more than a year, Emma felt like everything was as it should be. They were home. The only thing missing was -

“Mom?” Uneven, sloppy footsteps trotted down the steps, and Henry’s shaggy brown head appeared. “Is Adi going to take a nap? I wanted to invite some friends over and you know they can be loud-”

He nearly tripped over the last stair when he caught sight of Killian, and braced his arms on the banister so he wouldn’t fall. “Hook!”

“Uh, Killian, this is Henry,” Emma intervened quickly, lest the teenager overwhelm Killian with his enthusiasm. “My son.”

Henry leaped over the last two steps to land on the first floor, meeting them in the entryway with a grin.

“A pleasure, lad,” Killian said after a slight hesitation.

Henry ignored his proffered hand and hugged him instead, and when Killian didn’t return the gesture, he backed away to give him some breathing room. “So...still no memories, then, I guess?” he asked with undisguised disappointment.

Instead of the immediate dismissal Emma had expected, Killian gave him a tolerant, kind smile, and said, “Not yet, I’m afraid,” without refuting his question.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do. I’m just glad you’re back,” Henry replied. “I should catch you up on everything you missed while you were gone.” He paused, thinking. “Well, there’s my new sister, obviously.”

Killian quirked his mouth, amused. “Ahh, the burdens of being an older sibling. Do you like her?”

Henry shrugged in the careless way only teenage boys could. “She’s okay, I guess. There are a lot of babies in this town. But she doesn’t cry at night very much anymore, which is nice. I ended up spending a lot of nights at my other mom’s place the first few months ‘cause of that. Let’s see, what else? I’m getting really good at sparring. They finally let me have a real sword. Also, I have a girlfriend now, Violet, who taught me how to horseback ride. My grandparents said that if I hone my skills enough, they’ll give me a knighting ceremony -”

“Kid,” Emma shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the rack, “let him get in the door, huh?” Taking her hair out of its ponytail, she ran her fingers through it a few times until she’d worked out its stiffness.

“I don’t mind, Swan,” Killian told her, setting the car seat on the floor. Following Emma’s example, albeit more neatly, he removed his long jacket and hung it carefully beside hers. “As long as he is not a Lost Boy trying to slaughter me, I would welcome the company.”

“Oh. Really?” Unzipping her boots, she lined them up on the shoe mat. “In that case, if you two are going to catch up, I need to nurse Ariadne and lay her down for a nap.”

In fact, Emma admitted to herself as she took her baby from the seat, the nap was long overdue. Ariadne had been unusually fussy the past hour, and Emma was surprised that she hadn’t fallen asleep during the ride home. She usually took up to six naps a day, and other than some brief car trips and snoozes in between searches, she probably hadn’t had more than a total of about three.

“I suppose you wanted to eat first,” Emma said to her daughter as she brought the baby to the nursery. She was hungry, so she knew Ariadne was, probably even more so. “You were born with the same priorities as your mom, after all.”

Twenty minutes later, Ariadne was in a deep sleep. Emma placed her in the crib, rubbing the tiny belly with a quiet sigh.

Killian was right. She couldn’t keep dragging her daughter all over town on the hunt for a dangerous magical being. Not only for safety reasons, but for practicality. Adi was used to routines and stability, and savior activity didn’t quite factor into that.

“Would you like to stay with Belle tomorrow?” Emma whispered, taking her phone from her pocket. “I know you like her.”

With her parents helping in the search for Mim, Belle was the logical choice for watching Ariadne. And yet, something in her gut…

“Or maybe you just have separation anxiety. Just relax. You’ve had people babysit her plenty of times,” Emma scolded herself. “Tuns out Gold isn’t involved in this after all, so she’ll be fine.”

Tiptoeing out of the nursery, Emma dialed Belle’s number.

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“Okay, just...Just sit down, darling; I’m going to get some hot water and rags – I don’t have gauze.”

Milah was a flurry of activity, settling him down on an armchair before running to the kitchen of her lavish residence.

Cora had not been exaggerating, Killian realized as his beleaguered, tired body sank into the furniture. If Milah’s accommodations were any indication, Hades really did indulge her. But why would that be?

Not that he resented Milah any comfort she could take from the Underworld. If his first love had to be here, then he was glad it could be in such generous circumstances.

Milah returned with a steamy bowl and cloth, and took a seat on the arm of his chair. Her countenance was a combination of concern and helplessness. “Killian, there aren’t really any antiseptics or painkillers or anything here –I mean, we’re dead, you know, so...Maybe you don’t even know what those are, anyway. But I’ll do the best I can.”

Yes. Yes, he and Milah were dead, but Emma and her family were not. He had to find his Swan, immediately, and get every last one of them back to Storybrooke – yes, even that old crocodile he’d seen lurking in the background when she had contacted him from the cemetery. As badly as he wanted to sit and be with Milah for a while, to tell her how badly he missed her (And oh, how he’d missed her), he knew what he had to do.

“Never mind that, love,” he said, tasting his own blood in his mouth. “I need to go find Emma.”

“Who?” Milah wondered, wiping at his face with the wet rag. He flinched at the heat of the water, contrastive to the cold sweat on his brow.

“Emma. She’s...” How could he begin to depict the love of his life, the incredible woman who was the Savior? What she meant to him?

Perhaps more importantly, how did he tell this to the woman before him, the woman who was such a beloved, significant part of his life, and even his existence to this point? Whose name was tattooed on his very wrist?

“She’s…” The woman he wanted to marry? His True Love? None of that seemed to encompass exactly how deeply he felt about Emma.

“It’s all right, I get it,” Milah said, if a bit tautly. “It’s been hundreds of years. If this person brought you happiness, then I am happy. But, if she’s alive, Killian, then she isn’t here. You – you know that, right?”

“She’s here, Milah.” He turned his face slightly as she inadvertently used a bit more pressure with the cloth than his wounds could tolerate. “Those intruders you said Hades was talking about? That was her.”

“But why? What is she doing here?”

“She’s here for me.” Killin’s lips cracked with a smile. He may have been upset that Emma was here, and he would do everything in his power to send her away, but the fact that she’d come in the first place...

He gripped the armchair, about to push himself up. Already he had dawdled for too long.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Milah demanded, holding him in place. “Hold still!” she ordered sharply, which just made him smile again. Dear Milah.

He did his best to explain. “I have to get to her. I have to make her go home, before Hades does something.”

“No. Not in this condition. Wait a few days -”

“This can’t wait a few days, Milah,” Killian protested, taking the cloth from her so she’d be forced to look at him. “Do you see what Hades did to me? I can’t let that happen to her.”

“But you can barely walk.”

“Then I’ll crawl,” Killian breathed, shutting his working eye and preparing himself for the pain that would come with standing.

“Don’t be absurd, Killian. You’re not going anywhere. Hades is a reasonable man. If you give me a chance to talk to him, maybe -”

“He’s not a man at all!” Killian uttered. The room was suddenly broiling, so unbearably hot. He felt as though he was at the precipice of losing whatever tether was keeping him tied to this existence, and tilting farther and farther over the edge.

Forget it, mate. You can fade into oblivion after Emma and the others are safe.

Milah was stroking his forehead with long, graceful fingers. “Just rest. Rest for now, Killian. We’ll figure out what to do when you wake up.”

Rest. Yes, the reddish moon had been out when he and Milah had struggled their way to her abode, pace by dragging pace. Would Milah sleep? Did she sleep now?

If she lived in a fully furnished house, and if the weariness he was feeling was any indication, he was willing to believe she might. Instead of wasting time arguing with her, all he had to do was wait until she went to sleep, and then he could slip away and find Emma.

He hated the subterfuge, hated deceiving Milah in such a way; but with any luck, he could send Emma and her family home, and be back before she was even awake.

Steadying his breathing, he nodded, and sank back into the armchair to wait.

Storybrooke

Present Day

“And then you guys went to the ball. You somehow even got my mom to dance, see?”

Emma came to the ground level of the house to see Henry pointing to a passage in the storybook, the page of her in the red dress and Killian in his formal overcoat.

“What did dancing have to do with restoring the past?” Killian asked nonchalantly, though his next move was to pull the book onto his lap to get a better look at it.

“You were giving me a chance to waltz at my first ball,” Emma explained, moving a pillow to join them on the sofa. “It’s one of my favorite memories of us.”

Viewing the page as if lost in thought, Killian didn’t reply, at least not verbally. Finally, his attentions shifted to Emma. She saw endless questions in his face, and, for the first time, a clear desire for answers was accompanying it.

“There are many more. I’ll tell you more, after dinner, when the kids are asleep.” She suspected it would be easiest to give him the whole story without any interruptions.

Henry snorted. “Mom, I’m not five.”

“I know, Henry. I just think some of what happened...It might be best if he heard it from me.”

Providing a glimpse of the maturity of the man he was growing into, Henry said perceptively, “Oh. Yeah, I understand.”

“So, what would you guys like for supper?” Emma asked, as Killian flipped the pages in the book. “I can make chili, or...” It was too late for anything very fancy, although since she had become pregnant with Ariadne, her range of recipes had expanded in a quest for healthier eating. “French toast? Tuna casserole? Chicken and asparagus?”

“Don’t suppose you have chimera?” Killian asked.

She couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not, but her gag reflex kicked in, remembering the refugee camp in the Enchanted Forest. “Not in this world. Sorry.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, love. Nobody eats that if they can help it.”

“How about seafood?” Henry offered. “Sounds like something Hook would eat.”

“It does indeed sound appealing,” Killian conceded.

“Fish it is, then,” Emma decided, grunting as she pushed off the sofa. Bad idea, letting herself sit on the forgiving surface and relax; it was too difficult to get up again.

“Allow me to assist you in preparing the meal,” Killian said, following her into the kitchen. “The day has been trying, and I am a fair hand in the galley. No reason you should have to do all the work on your own.”

“It’s a date.”

The Underworld

One Year Ago

Late that night, Emma sat at the kitchen table, sipping some of the rooibos tea Regina had brewed and insisted she drink.

Of course, it was nice having someone look out for her; but due to all of her worries, she could hardly taste the beverage. Henry and Robin hadn’t returned from the mayor’s office, Killian was still missing, and Gold, being the upstanding guy that he was, had ditched them yet again. He could have been halfway to Wonderland for all she knew.

“How are you feeling?” Regina asked.

Emma shrugged.

“I know I might not be your closest confidante, but right now I am the only one who knows about what you’re going through; so you can talk, if you want.” Pushing a jar of honey over to Emma, she added, “Here. It makes the tea taste better.”

Emma was about to thank her when she heard someone enter the house, and she jumped up, almost splashing the contents of her mug on her shirt. Recognizing the intruder, she shouted, “Robin! Did you -”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Robin told Emma shamefacedly as he and Henry drew closer. “We were unable to find anything useful at the mayor’s office.”

Regina, working on finishing her own cup of tea, gave a small hiss of irritation. “Mother. Always conniving. I suppose I should have known. She would have hidden and locked up anything that could be used to her advantage. It isn’t your fault.”

Henry, chin jutted out, made for the stairs without commenting.

“Hey, kid!” Emma called after him. “Everything all right?”

Turning, Henry smiled reassuringly, but his eyes darted back and forth. “Yeah, of course! I’m just frustrated, you know? I need some time to think, that’s all. I’ll be upstairs.”

Well, if her son lacked one talent his father had, it was the ability to convincingly smooth talk his way out of situations. Henry just wasn’t a born liar, for which Emma was grateful. Time to drag out the details. “Hold on. W-”

“Wait a moment,” Robin interrupted. “Where is Hook? Didn’t he...”

A chill settled over Emma, and Regina eventually stepped in to answer. “They didn’t find him.”

“What?” Henry blurted despairingly, invested in the situation again. “But Meg said he was there. How could he not be there?”

“We’re going to keep looking,” Regina told him, then glanced in Emma’s direction. “And keep looking, until we find him.”

Instead of taking comfort from Regina’s promise, Henry’s spine steeled, and he got that far away look again. “I know. Just...Just keep me updated on what we’re going to do next.” With that, he flew upstairs.

Regina pursed her mouth and paced her hands on her hips. “Robin, was he acting this strangely with you at the office?”

“I can’t say that he was,” Robin mused, coming to the kitchen and setting his archery effects on the table. “He was fine while we were there, then on the walk back, he barely said a word.”

“Weird,” Emma observed. “I suppose I better go talk to him.”

“No, I can do it, Emma,” Regina said, already a few steps up the staircase. “I’m guessing you have enough to worry about right now.”

Contrary to what Regina believed, focusing on a normal, everyday problem, such as cryptic teen behavior, would have only helped Emma at this point. The last thing she wanted to be dwelling on was whether the reason they couldn’t find Killian was because Hades completely eliminated his soul.

Still, Regina was only trying to help. “Okay,” Emma said, plastering a smile on her face. Nope, she wasn’t going to imagine horrible things about her dead, tortured, father-of-her-next-baby boyfriend. She’d just...

Talk with Robin. He had been right earlier when he said they didn’t really know each other well, but he seemed like a decent man. “So there was nobody in the office?” she asked, going to the sink and pouring out her tea. Regina didn’t have to know. It was cold anyway, and she’d rather be drinking cocoa.

Robin, scrutinizing the feather things on one of his arrows (which probably had a name, but it escaped Emma), confirmed her statement. “No. It was very quiet, which rather surprised me. You would think somebody here would want to take the position of mayor.”

“Maybe they don’t want to disappear, like Cora.”

“Maybe.”

Emma rinsed out the mug slowly. “You know, I wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to come here.”

“Of course I did. I would do no less for one of my Merry Men. We are, all of us, nearly a family, after all.”

Emma didn't get a chance to respond as heavy thuds beat against the front door. The booming noise startled Emma into dropping her cup into the sink, and Robin accidentally knocked his bow to the floor.

They exchanged wide-eyed, alarmed looks. “What is that?” Emma mouthed.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Surely a minion of Hades wouldn’t stop to knock?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Gathering the weapon, Robin eyed the door, then hastily scoped out the first floor, possibly measuring distances and angles. “I’ll cover you,” he promised, then instructed, “Once you open it, try not to move.” before rushing up the flight of steps. Perching at the top, he aimed his bow directly at the entryway.

Facing the door, Emma flicked on the outdoor light, bathing the porch in brightness. She thew open the door, ready for hellbeasts or bats or zombies...

“Killian?” she sobbed.

Storybrooke

Present Day

As Killian delivered steaming platters of food to the dining area, he pondered how long it had been since he had eaten at a proper table, in a civilized setting, and not the small desk in his quarters, or the vomit-stained troughs at various taverns.

It had-

It had been quite some time.

Henry was in the middle of setting the table. “Let’s see…forks on the left, or right?” he wondered.

“The left, lad.”

“My other mom taught me, but she’s become less formal in the last few years,” the boy explained, folding a napkin. “Since it’s your first night back with us, I figured I should try to make it special.”

“I…appreciate the effort, Henry,” Killian’s told him, failures with Bae bedeviling him mercilessly.

When Emma arrived with the last dish of vegetables, and Ariadne on her hip, Killian’s automatic reaction was to pull her chair back for her. “Thank you,” she said, placing the baby in a high seat with cushioned sides and a tray, pausing to strap her to the contraption.

When they were all seated, food passed and dished, Henry said, “So, are we going to keep looking for Mim and Blackbeard all night?”

“Mary Margaret and Zelena are on the hunt right now,” Emma told him, spearing some green beans. “Maleficent offered to do the overnight shift. If Mim causes any more disturbances, we’ll be alerted. Don’t worry, Henry.”

“I’m not.”

Killian, still sorting the nuances of this strange town, asked, “If the Evil Queen is truly on your side now, why not ask for her help? With her reputation, perhaps even her presence would be a deterrent to our foes.”

The boy shifted in his seat. “She doesn’t have her magic anymore.”

Certainly intriguing information. “How did that happen?” If there was a way to take the magic from Regina, maybe there was a way to take the magic from the crocodile. Oh, how rich that would be. He might even let the creature live, powerless and terrified for the rest of its existence. For Rumpelstiltskin, it might be a fate worse than death.

“She chose it,” Emma told him. “To help somebody she’d wronged.”

How disappointing. The Queen might not have been his type, but he’d thought they’d at least shared a mutual thirst for vengeance.

Ariadne squawked, a noise which Killian was quickly learning to recognize as a demand for attention. “What is it, small one?” he thought, suddenly not concerned about crocodiles and queens.

“No, you can’t have fish,” Emma told her, sighing. “You haven’t even tried baby foods yet. Stop getting ideas.”

“I’ll get her toy; it’ll distract her,” Henry offered, rising and leaving the table.

Ariadne squirmed in her seat, fixated on her mother as Emma took a large bite of the creamy rice on her plate. While Emma chewed, the baby warbled loudly.

“I think she still wants some, Emma,” Killian said, entertained.

Not nearly as amused as he, Swan went back to her fish. “She may be tiny, but once she gets something in her head, she will not let it go. I wonder where that comes from. I dread the day she discovers object permanence.”

“Discovers what?”

“Oh, all the baby books say that at her age, if something is out of sight, it’s out of mind. For her it doesn’t exist. One day soon, she’ll start remembering, and that is going to be trouble.”

“Baby book? There are manuals for child rearing?”

“Thousands. And I still don’t feel like I know what I’m doing half the time.”

Ah, Swan. Don’t overlook your accomplishments. “All you need to do is trust your gut, Swan. The girl is a marvel.”

The lad returned, shaking a baby toy to make it jingle. “Look, Adi, I have your lion!”

Adi burbled happily, Henry took his seat, and they resumed their meal.

If not for the knowledge that Morgan would be stealing the dagger from the nuns within hours, Killian could have almost pretended it was real.

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“Love...”

“Here – Come here – Let me...How did you -” Emma strung together half-formed sentences as she drew Killian’s weight upon her shoulders and led him inside. “Oh, Killian...”

He looked like he had gone twelve rounds with a velociraptor, then thrown in a blender. Then run over. What kind of sick, depraved monster was Hades, anyway? She couldn’t even picture Pan or Cora going this far. And for what? What could he possibly have against Killian?

They moved slowly, so slowly that she couldn’t begin to imagine how he had made it to the house on his own.

When she asked him as much, he tried pitiably hard to give her a smile, and said, “Thought of you, love.”

Still trying to make her feel better, even when he was falling apart. He felt more like a lump of shredded leather and bones than a human being, and she stifled welling tears.

“Allow me to assist,” Robin said, coming down the stairs. Emma had forgotten about him. At least he hadn’t shot either of them.

Finally, the three of them managed to shuffle around the crib, and Robin helped deposit Killian onto the couch. “I’m sure you need some time. I’ll let the others know,” said the archer, and soon only Emma and Killian shared the room.

Wasting no more time, Emma burrowed against his chest, hugging him as close as she could without hurting him. “I came here to find you, but you found me,” she whispered, pressing her cheek over were his heart would be.

They were together again. Him, her, and the baby in between them.

“Let’s get you healed, and then I have something important to tell you.”

His body shuddered. “Swan – please, none of you should be here. Take all of your family and go, now.”

Did he really not count himself as part of Emma’s family? “Now that you’re here, I can. Hold still a minute, and let me take a look at you.” Unclasping her arms from him, she sat up and scanned him.

Gruffly, he said, “Maybe you shouldn’t. It’s not going to be attractive, Swan.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re always attractive.”

That earned her a tiny smile, probably more in appreciation for her attempt to cheer him up than anything else.

“Ready?”

“Aye, love.”

Concentrating, Emma waved her hand in front of Killian’s face, and in its wake his injuries disappeared, the slashes and cuts and bruises disappearing without even leaving scars or the remnants of dried blood.

Strangely, she felt exhausted, drained; something had never before experienced after using her magic. Was it a side effect of the pregnancy?

“Thank you,” Killian said with gratitude, leaning back against the edge of the sofa. Then, taking her in, he asked, “Emma, are you all right?”

“I think so. Just tired.” Seeing him recovered and healthy was rejuvenating in itself, and Emma tilted her head, ready to kiss him...

And he pulled away, stoically and deliberately rebuffing her.

Had he not really forgiven her, after all? “What’s the matter?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t crack.

“I just...” As resolute as he had seemed a moment ago, his tone betrayed his uncertainty. “A lot has happened between us, and I’m not sure...”

“You’re not sure about what?” Emma placed her hand over the empty brace on his left wrist. “We both made mistakes, I know, but -”

“Mistake?” Killian gave an abbreviated, stifled laugh. “Love, forgetting to snuff a candle when you leave a room is a mistake. Using sugar in a recipe instead of flour is a mistake. Trying to send the people you love to the Underworld is nothing short of an atrocity.”

“But that’s the point of our wrongs. We learn, we grow, and we use second chances to fix them, and you did.”

“Love...our trip to Neverland was my second chance,” he said unequivocally. “How many times should I be allowed to continue this cycle? How many more people have to suffer? At what point does the universe say, ‘you have earned in kind what you have done to others’ ?”

Yanking his arm away from her, Killian quieted. “You gave in to darkness out of love. In my weakness, I plunged in headfirst for revenge.”

Rising, he walked halfway across the room, stopping near the crib. As if lost and looking for something to anchor him, he simply stared at it.

“It was unforgivable.”

Leaving the sofa, she joined him by the crib. Standing behind him, she put her arms around his middle and rested her head on his back. “Don’t I get to decide whether I forgive you?”

He made an indecipherable noise.

“Because I do forgive you, Killian, and I hope you can forgive me. I want you to come home, with me, with us.”

And as far as he knew, she was talking about Henry, her parents, Regina and Robin, which she was; but more than anything she realized she was talking about the baby.

“Of course I forgive you...I am just afraid I hurt you too badly, and that what we have is too fragile to start anew.”

She held him tighter. “It isn’t fragile. It’s strong. Strong enough that you found me in New York. Strong enough that I gave up my powers to keep you from drowning. Strong enough that we are in Henry’s book. If I ever made you question that, then I’m sorry.”

He was already shaking his head, moving out of her embrace. She was losing him. “No, this isn’t on you. My mistakes are something I need to pay for.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That I’m not sure I deserve to go back. Even if I did, how would it be possible? And every moment you and the rest are here is putting you in danger.”

Her stomach rolled as she processed what he was saying. Whatever his reasons, no matter if he thought he was doing the correct, noble thing, it amounted to the same thing: He wasn’t sure if he would come back.

Neal had gone away, but Killian was going to stay away. It was like some cruel, cosmic joke.

“I am going to give you half of my heart. Split it, like my parents.” Emma reached for him again, and found she had to lean on him as startling weariness dragged her down, making her feel as though all the energy she possessed had been purged. And the strangest part was, she could tell that this time it was unquestionably her magic, not just her body, that was exhausted.

“Emma? Emma,” Killian said, alarmed, forgetting his reluctance to touch her as he supported her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just feel a little drained,” she confessed.

“Then you’re in no condition to split your heart right now,” Killian said firmly. “Let’s…Why don’t you rest, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She knew stalling when she heard it, but maybe it was the best she could hope for right now. “Come with me?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course. Wait, wasn’t there something else you wanted to tell me?”

Yes.

No.

“Don’t worry about it now. Later.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

Emma’s story began plausibly enough, with the claim of him continuing to work with Cora before splitting off and chasing the crocodile into a particular city outside of Storybrooke – New York – and poisoning him with dreamshade, only to have Snow White save the beast’s life at the last minute by sacrificing Cora.

He lost interest when Emma explained that he’d offered to take them on the Jolly Roger to Neverland to save Henry (unlikely, even if he was supposedly Bae’s son – quite a twist, that) and permitting the Dark One to travel with them (bloody impossible), but when she mentioned that Bae died to give Storybrooke crucial information about the Wicked Witch, Killian began to pay attention again.

“Bae died?” he asked slowly, struggling to imagine the boy as a full grown man. Struggling to imagine that man dead.

A man who, by Swan’s account, had his heart calloused by the world to the extent that he was willing to send the woman he loved to jail for his own actions, but in the end still true enough to make the ultimate sacrifice to save his child.

“He did.” Emma took a long sip of her cocoa. “It led to us defeating Zelena.”

“And did his father make anything of the life Bae returned to him?” Killian asked, bitterly. It didn’t seem right, that Bae was the one to lie in the crocodile’s rightfully deserved grave.

Disgust and loathing ignited in Swan’s face. “Ha. Gold? He was colluding with the Snow Queen a week or two after Neal’s funeral. And that was just the beginning of it.”

“Who is this Snow Queen, love?”

She settled against his side, no longer facing him, and tucked her head under his chin. “We’re not there, yet.”

So, melancholic over the death of the boy he’d failed, he decided to relax. Closing his eyes he simply listened, as she told him of time travel, doppelgangers, and a ballroom dance that haunted her still.

And he’d given the Jolly for her.

“That part can’t be true, Swan,” he spoke into her hair.

“Why not?”

“I am not that selfless, I’m afraid.”

Curling closer, she said, “Then you’re going to surprise yourself, sooner or later.”

She described their first ‘date’ – this realm’s courting ritual – and how the Snow Queen was defeated not with strength, but with love.

She struggled through describing how Rumpelstiltskin had taken Killian’s heart, and turned him into a puppet for his own use, nearly killing him.

And how they’d had six weeks of uninterrupted bliss before three witches arrived in town, along with the return of the Dark One

Ursula. That was not a name he expected to hear again, certainly not from Swan. Yet, she insisted he’d returned Ursula’s voice and happy ending.

Hearing these tales was like hearing of another man. A man Liam might be proud of, a man Emma could care for. Someone he was not.

Therefore, he could distance himself from the next part of the story.

Swan becoming a Dark One.

Killian was aware how difficult it was for her to share this experience. She pulled away from him, walked over to an end table, and plucked a pink flower from a vase. “You gave me this in Camelot. I put a preservation spell over it.”

She rejoined him on the sofa, handing the flower to him. It was similar to a rose, large and smelling as fresh as the day it had been plucked. “Middlemist. We don’t have these in the Enchanted Forest. You really were in Camelot.”

“We were. You gave that to me the day Ariadne was conceived.”

His brows lifted. “You know that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’m pretty sure. The timing works out better than back in Storybrooke.”

He was too taken aback to even make some suggestive humor. He had lain with a Dark One? Even if it was Emma Swan?

“Um.” She pressed her thumbs together nervously. “Are you okay?”

“Aye.” Had Ariadne been affected by such darkness?

“I just want you to know – before I tell you what happens next, I just really want you to know how much you helped me in Camelot. I would have been lost without you.”

Sweet, sincere words, but nearly pleading for some kind of absolution. What did she not want to tell him?

“Swan, I can’t very well be upset with you over something I don’t even remember. Might as well get it over with.”

“I turned you into a Dark One.”

Once it became apparent that she was quite serious, he took his rum from his jacket, removed the cork with his teeth, and drank deeply. “Well. That’s quite the trick. Thought you could only become a Dark One, not make one.”

“The dagger was once part of a larger blade, a sword called Excalibur. I tethered you to the other half, because you were dying. It saved you, but...You were understandably upset.”

He almost came back with some sarcastic quibbling, but given how much she struggled with admitting this to him, Killian held out the flask for her instead.

Half of her mouth curled up. “Can’t. I’m breastfeeding, and dealing with those test strips isn’t worth it. Thanks, though.”

Killian only understood half of what she was referring to, but was able to comprehend her overall meaning. “I’ll have to enjoy it for the both of us, then.” He refrained, however, from imbibing any more of the rum. “Can you tell me what happened then?”

Finishing her story, she explained how his eventual demise was carried out by her, at his request, after several more questionable decisions on both their parts.

“And then, we went to the Underworld to try and save you, but – I couldn’t.” Emma’s eyes welled with tears. “We got Graham back, but not you. And here you are a year later, not remembering any of it; not even how you got back.”

“So that’s how you killed me,” he said thoughtfully, and she winced.

“Yeah. One of the worst, most personal ways possible. It’s why when you and Blackbeard were dueling with swords on your ship the other day, I freaked out and didn’t even think to use my magic to stop it. All I could remember was Excalibur going...Anyway. That’s the story.”

She was observing him anxiously for a response, and while he realized that a simple acknowledgment would better serve the purpose of maintaining his facade, he couldn’t forget – almost had forgotten – that this was all a pretense.

But his real question slipped. “So why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was I your choice because of convenience? Baelfire and Graham were dead, that Walsh person turned out to be a fraud. Only then did you accept me, correct?”

“What we were had nothing to do with them,” she said, unfaltering. “Once I realized how much you truly…cared about me, that’s when I knew that I could take a chance.”

Suddenly it was like being at the top of the beanstalk again, but instead of locking him up and walking away from him, she was taking those chains away. “Take a chance that you were right about me?”

“Exactly.”

Killian looked down at his hand and hook. He should be grateful. Really, it made everything easier; her faith in him made her lenient and forgiving where she shouldn’t be, yet –

He hadn’t had anyone to disappoint since Liam.

Milah and the crew wholeheartedly approved of his unprincipled choices, and it –

It didn’t matter, did it? Wouldn’t he just find some way to fail Swan, as he had done with everything else that was good in his life?

“Hey, want to see Ariadne’s baby book?”

“What is that?” Any kind of distraction from his morose thoughts would be a welcome respite.

“It’s kind of an…I dunno. A memoir for her early days. It has pictures and stuff I collected. I just thought you might like to see it, since you missed her birth. She was so little…”

Killian tried and failed to envision something smaller than Swan’s daughter. “She still is.”

“Yeah.” Emma went over to a bookcase, selected a colorful, thick tome, and returned to him, sitting close enough that he could smell her cinnamon scented hair. Opening the book, she lay the cover on his lap.

Inside, on the first page, a name jumped out at him. Ariadne Maris Jones.

The script was flowing, elegant, and hinted at formal royal training; Princess Snow was the most likely inscriber. How strange, that a royal would pen his name, Jones.

How strange to see the baby’s name right next to his.

“You gave her my name.”

“Yeah,” Emma said quietly. “I wanted her to know you in the only way that was left for her. So that every time she wrote her name, she would think of the man who was her father, and remember the stories I told. Remember that she had a father who would have loved her with his whole soul, if he’d been here.” Chuckling sheepishly, she added, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all sentimental on you.”

“Maris? ‘Of the Sea’? Quite clever, Swan.”

“I...Yeah,” she responded, clearing her throat and turning the page. The next thing he saw was a thin band with notches and letters. “This is her hospital bracelet.” After explaining its use, Emma turned the page, and on they went. A snippet of hair, a pair of mittens comparable in size to a Misthaven doubloon, and -

“What is that?”

“This? A picture. Her first one, that my mom took right after the birth.”

Killian stared at the tiny, wrinkled, red thing, mouth open as she expelled the air in her lungs for the first time in what was undoubtedly a bellow. In the background of the portrait was Emma, clearly strained and overexerted herself, but nevertheless extending her arms in desperation for the infant.

“You were alone again,” he stated sadly, remembering her story of her first pregnancy.

“Yeah – Well, no, I had my parents, and Henry came by right after she was born with Regina and Robin. So...”

“Regardless. I’m sorry.” He meant it, too. A person shouldn’t have to endure what she’d been through once, let alone twice.

“I missed you.” She’d indicated this before, but it was the first time he really comprehended why. “Thank you for coming tonight. Whatever your reasons, I’m glad.”

“Of course,” he replied spontaneously. “I’m glad, too.” And to his bewilderment and wonder, he realized it was absolutely true. Adrift in this realization, he didn’t notice Swan was watching him searchingly, as though trying to decipher him.

“You mean that,” she said.

“Yes, I do.” The situation was becoming too heartfelt, too real, and he compensated by turning the next page. “So what is this?”

“That is a picture of the first time Henry held her.”

When they had finished poring over the book, Killian was left with a deep sense of profoundness. Seeing the records made them more than just stories; they were memories. Memories he was perhaps supposed to have been a part of.

Seeming to understand what he was thinking, Emma took the memoir and put it away, and came back with a small frame. Inside was a small portrait of her and Killian himself, seated in the diner where he’d tried to eat breakfast the other day. They looked content and happy together.

“I guess the question isn't whether you think this is real. Maybe the question should be, do you want it to be?” Emma commented, without a word about the portrait.

Wanted. He could have this, every day, if he just wanted it. An incredible, gorgeous woman who cared about him, genuinely cared. A clever, good-hearted lad who was so like Bae; and if Swan’s story was true, also Milah’s grandson. A perfectly enchanting baby girl, bright-eyed and so full of life. Together in this stately home, beside the sea.

What fool could not want such an existence? There was no better reality, not that he could conceive.

And that is why he couldn’t pursue it. The cost of his failure would be too high to pay. He was not so irrational as to believe he could have both his revenge, and this life. “Milah needs her peace.”

“So do you,” Emma said simply, and fell to stroking his arm gently.

“I should return to my ship.” Whether he’d bought Morgan enough time, he didn’t know, and right then he didn’t care. All he was sure of was that he needed to leave.

“You don’t have to. This is your home.”

“Swan...I...I barely know you.” Since when had that been a prerequisite for enjoying the company of a lass? If he’d had any lingering doubts about her ability to confound him, this put an end to them. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“Then I guess we will have to work on changing that.” There was a glint of wickedness in her eye as she said it, promising all kinds of interesting things.

“Perhaps we can,” he said, all while wondering if he would even see her again after tonight. If Morgan had succeeded, the only step left was finding the Dark One. He had sworn to Swan he would help with the fairy and Blackbeard, and at the time, he’d meant it; but then, he had never been very good at fulfilling his promises. Maybe it was a good thing she had left him on that beanstalk, after all. “May I...say goodnight to the little one?”

Emma drew a breath and bit her lip while smiling, as if trying to curb emotion. “Of course you can. Come with me.”

He found they were holding hands again as they traveled upstairs, Emma in the lead. Coming to a door, Emma turned the handle and brought him inside, into darkness broken only by a small light, hanging about boot-high, shining on the wall.

“Is this a good idea?” he whispered. “Will it wake her?"

Activating the main, overhead light, he was able to see her shake her head. “No,” she murmured. “Once she’s down, she’s out. That nightlight is only there so I can find the switch. I’ve been thinking of taking it away, so she doesn't come to rely on it.”

The object to which Swan was referring was surely that bright, low-hanging sconce on the wall. Nightlight, he committed the word to memory.

“Go on, say goodnight,” she encouraged.

Treading lightly, so as not to wake the child, Killian arrived at the hideous bassinet (really, if this was his life, he would have insisted on something a bit less barbaric for such a delicate little infant to slumber in) and found the child sleeping soundly in the center of the mattress.

Her hands were both in fists, up next to the sides of her head. If he were feeling fanciful, he would have said she appeared to be concentrating very deeply on sleeping.

In his eyes, she looked so perfect, she almost didn’t seem real.

If he failed to survive his quest, perhaps it would not be such a horrible thing. He wouldn’t end up failing her, ruining her, and Swan would tell her rosy tales of his heroic exploits, as she remembered them.

Touching Ariadne’s soft hair, he whispered, “Goodnight.” What he meant, of course, was goodbye.

Sounding a little murmuring noise, she moved her hand and grasped his thumb, without waking.

Voice admittedly thick, he said to Emma, “Swan? I want to give this back to you.” Extracting his hand from the baby’s grip, he took hold of Liam’s ring and drew the chain off his neck, placing it on her palm.

“Thank you,” she said with gratitude, fitting the chain around her own neck. “But why?”

Because the ring originally belonged to a good man, a hero; and Emma would continue to care for it in her own heroic way. “Because it’s yours, love.”

He started to leave, then said, “Don’t take away the nightlight, Emma. The dark is not a pleasant place for those too young to know the difference.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Emma woke when Killian opened the closet door of the master bedroom, looking for a clean shirt. She had slept fitfully, two or three hours at most; and her body wished it had been about five times that. It hadn’t helped that, even though Killian had shared the bed with her, he had kept his distance to the point of disconcerting her. He hadn’t so much as bumped her knee with his during the night.

“I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right.” Pushing back the covers, she yawned. “It’s probably time we did this heart split and got out of here, anyway.”

“It seems we will have to wait a bit for that. Your parents should probably join us first, and Henry went to the bakery to get donuts for breakfast. Also...Much as I still loathe the man, I suppose we cannot leave Rumpelstiltskin down here.”
He was right about the first part, she decided. While Regina and Robin had used the fold-away bed in the sofa downstairs, and Henry his room, there had been nowhere for David and Mary Margaret to sleep, so they had chosen to go back to their Underworld ‘home’ for the night. As for the rest...

“Henry went out there alone?”

“Regina gave him an enchanted compact mirror and told him to use it if he needed help.” Selecting a dark blue shirt, Killian began to loosen his brace for removal. “He should be back soon. Have you any notion where that crocodile is? Out of curiosity, why did you bring him?”

“Using his blood was the only way to get here. But...there’s something you should know. When you destroyed the Dark Ones...Killian, he channeled all that power back into himself. He is the Dark One again.”

He took it about as well as she could have expected. Killian dropped his brace, cursed, and was briefly silent. “So, my only good deed through all of this was undone. I couldn’t even destroy the darkness.”

“Hey. You couldn’t have known. It’s his fault.”

Pained, he looked at her. “Tell me at least you didn’t make some sort of deal to enlist his help in this rescue.”

“No. I threatened him.”

Killian burst into genuine laughter. “Now that's my Swan.” He quickly sobered. “Are you sure a heart split will work? I don’t doubt you, but the circumstances of your parents’ success were somewhat different. I’m not sure you should risk it.”

“It’ll work. Regina can split it, and back home we put a preservation spell on th – On your -”

“My body?”

“Right. So it will work, if you want to go back.” Sliding out of bed, Emma placed her feet on the floor and began to stand, right before the morning sickness decided to greet her. Abruptly, her legs gave out and she she sat again.

“Emma? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Please don’t lie,” he said, but he said it gently. “This happened last night, too. You can tell me.”

He had given her an opening. This was her perfect opportunity. She could tell him about the baby, and -

And what? Make his choice to return to Storybrooke not a choice at all? If they were going to go forward together at all, it had to be because he wanted to, not because he thought he had to.

Her indecision cost her. “You don’t want to tell me, do you?” Hanging his head, he said, “That’s all right. What can I do to help? I don’t want you to feel poorly. May I get you some cocoa?”

But what if it was just as wrong to deceive him? Wasn’t that why they were in this mess in the first place? He had a right to know, didn't he? “I don’t need anything, thanks.”

There was an awkward pause, and then Killian came to the bed and sat beside her, tentatively taking her in his arms. He seemed about to say something when the door flew open.

“Oh. Oh. Sorry, guys,” Henry said from the doorway. “Didn’t mean to barge in. But I just met someone outside when I was on my way back. He’s looking for Killian.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Henry? Hey, kid. Sorry to wake you up, but I have to go deal with Gold really quick.”

Mumbling from the dark room.

“Okay,” Emma said, “so I gotta leave the baby monitor in here while I'm gone. You’ll listen for Ariadne for me until I get back?”

She thought she heard a yes, or close enough; so after almost tripping over something or another – probably a stack of books – Emma placed the monitor close to his bed and exited, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Well, that smells foul. Home cooked meal at last?”

“Hilarious. It’s leftovers.” Emma handed a plate and utensils through the bars. “Hope you like fish and risotto.”

“It’ll do,” Gold told her in a manner that suggested he was doing her a great favor. “Though it’s quite a deviation from your usual grilled cheese, and other assorted rubbish.” Meandering over to his bench and table in the corner, he settled down and began to eat.

“See you later,” Emma said, turning her shoulder on him. She didn’t particularly care to watch him eat.

“Oh, but wait, Ms. Swan. You’ve been neglecting me these last few days. I fancy a chat. How are the children?”

“Not doing this right now, Gold.”

“By which I mean,” he continued around a mouthful of cod, “my grandson and Baby Jones, of course.”

“I know what you meant,” Emma said bitterly. He was fully aware of Ariadne’s existence, and it was stupid to keep pretending like he didn’t. “You aren’t getting anywhere near her.”

“Oh, so it is a daughter. That was just a happy guess, really. And what makes you think I want to be anywhere near her?” he asked with barely concealed glee.

“You threatened-”

“I did no such thing!” he scoffed. “Were you even listening to what I really said?”

Emma folded her arms. “Gold, we’ve known each other for years now. Time and time again, I’ve watched you work your way into situations, and then back out of them. I’ve seen your manipulations and your failures. I’ve been your ally, and I’ve been your enemy. I’ve even shared your curse. Don’t think, for one second, I can’t figure you out.”

Rumpelstiltskin took a deliberate bite, chewing quietly. When he was done, he asked, “The girl, is she healthy?”

Emma felt her cheek twitch. “Why?”

“Well, I am sure you have figured out by now that Reynard’s illness is due to the Dark One curse. It was not passed on to him – that is, he is not cursed. Reynard is not a host, you see, but part of him was conceived entirely from darkness. Whatever the Dark One makes, especially when…” A slightly guilty expression chased its way across his face. “When conceived in selfishness, comes with a price. Like any wound, it continues to fester and spread through my boy.” Stabbing his fork into the risotto, he glared at the plate. “The pictures and videos I have seen of him made it all too clear that it will consume him, eventually, because he does not have the immortality that comes with the curse.” The corners of his mouth trembled, and Emma could see him fighting inner pain. “And yet, the timing of your child says she was also conceived while one or both of her parents were Dark Ones. Is she suffering the same effects?”

“You think I am going to answer that?”

“In the interests of both children’s welfare, yes, I do.”

Emma suppressed her snort of annoyance. At best, Rumpelstiltskin viewed her daughter as a pawn, or useful bargaining chip. At worst…well, she didn’t want to consider that.

“I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll give you the answer, for everything that you know on somebody in Storybrooke: Madam Mim, the bartender.”

“I can never resist a good bargain. Very well.”

Emma reached for a necklace, a ring, that once again graced her neck. “She’s completely healthy. No darkness. Now, what do you know about Mim? What is she most likely to be after?”

“Why does a fairy do anything that it does?” he sneered, and Emma had the oddest feeling that he was sneering at fairies in general, instead of her. “The truth is, I do not know. I am aware she had some feud with that Blue insect, and that she nearly collapsed the kingdom...well, village...of Camelot, just for fun. Personally, however, I never had even the briefest of interactions with Mim. So, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Our deal was that you tell me something useful!”

“Our deal was for me to tell you ‘everything I know’ about Mim, and I did. Semantics, Ms. Swan. Be mindful, and you learn to turn a good deal.”

She felt her fingers knotting angrily, and, without comment, again went for the stairs.

“Ms. Swan, we did not finish our conversation. Why is your baby healthy? Was she not also born of darkness?”

“Figure it out. You’re the mastermind. And no, I don’t have to tell you. The deal was, you wanted to know if she was suffering the same as Reynard, and I answered that.” She gave her biggest smile. “Semantics.”

Blackbeard watched the house all evening into the morning, taking care to keep hidden from the prying eyes of snooping neighbors. He could not see the point of this; he was cold and irritated and tired, and beginning to wonder if that blasted fairy had sent him on a gremlin chase to keep him out of the way, when one of those mechanical carriages, bright yellow, stopped in front of his targeted home.

Out came the slim, disagreeable sheriff, who then ducked into the depths of the carriage and brought forth a baby in a molded seat. Hook’s whelp!

“Madam Mim, I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered to himself.

Hook’s wench, brat in tow, walked up to the house and knocked on the front door. She waited, switching the seat from hand to hand, until a small brunette woman in a blue dress opened the door.

They exchanged smiles and pleasantries, and eventually the blonde handed off the seat to the other woman. Leaning down, the Swan girl kissed her offspring before returning to her yellow beast and waving farewell. The brunette took the wrist of the baby and shook the hand, manipulating it so the baby was ‘waving’ back.

Utter stupidity.

Finally, the homeowner retreated with the baby, back into her domicile.

Instantly on the move, Blackbeard rushed towards the house, directly for the first lower level window he saw. He vaguely remembered something about Mim wanting him to contact her before taking any action; but the way he saw it, he didn’t need her anymore.

What was one tiny brunette woman against the most feared pirate in the realms? In minutes, he would have that baby, take it to the Jolly Roger, spill its blood to rid the magic, and depart this strange land.

Using his elbow, Blackbeard smashed through the window and then stuck his arm through the jagged remnants to slide it open from the inside. He had no concerns about the noise it produced; in fact, he hoped it would lure the woman into the room.

Sure enough, by the time he had wriggled himself through the frame, a tiny blur of fury was in the room, ordering him about. “What is going on? Who are you and what do you think you’re doing here? You need to leave before I call the sheriff.”

Seeing that she had removed the child from the seat, but still carried it in her arms, Blackbeard smiled. “Certainly. Hand over the baby and I will happily do so.”

The lass gawked at him. “Are you mad? You are not touching this baby!”

In response, Blackbeard lunged for her, but he had miscalculated. He was still to far away, and it gave her a chance to scramble away and out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Snarling, he followed her, ripping the door open with such vigor that he tore off one of the hinges.

He caught a flash of blue as she disappeared around a corner, and followed in a mad rush, knocking framed portraits off of the wall as he went.

At last catching up to her, he found himself in a spacious, sleek galley. He barely had time to realize he had her cornered before he took a step-

And slipped in a large puddle of water, falling hard on his back on the unyielding floor. Wetness seeped into the back of his jacket as he turned his head, trying to see the woman. She was already at his side, grabbing his sword and firearm. Curse the wench.

In his peripheral vision, he saw an empty bucket rolling back and forth; and, propped against a counter, a mop. She had led him to the kitchen deliberately to spill the water, knowing he’d fall.

“Don’t move,” she said coldly, baby pressed against her chest with one arm, and the sword tucked under the other, hand aiming the gun.

How had this little scrap of a woman gotten the better of him? It galled him, and he could do nothing in his anger but lie still in soapy, grimy water.

Without warning, though, the gun and sword were shrouded in purple smoke, and returned to his holster and sheath.

A sultry, unfriendly voice said, “You shouldn’t fool with weapons when there are children in the house, my dear.”

“You must be Mim,” said the wench, keeping a brave front in spite of this turn against her favor. “Emma told me about what you did, when she called about babysitting last night. You won’t get Ariadne. I won’t let you.”

“That’s nice.” Mim waved her wand, and the woman collapsed to the floor silently, almost hitting her head on the edge of a counter on her way down. The baby was cushioned against her chest and did not hit the ground, but began screaming anyway.

Blackbeard stumbled to his feet, elated. “Mim! How did you know how to find me, lass?”

“I didn’t,” she snapped, glaring up at him. “This morning, it belatedly occurred to me that trusting you to come find me if Emma stopped by Belle’s was putting way too much faith in you, so I came to check up on the situation. Just in time, apparently. Did I not make myself clear that you were to come to me and report?”

“You did, but I was...handling it.”

“Of course you were.”

Desperate to change the subject, Blackbeard asked over the sound of the crying infant, “How did you know the sheriff would leave the baby here?”

The fairy made a motion with her hand, and the screams were abruptly cut off. The baby’s mouth was still moving, but its cries were silenced. “That’s much better. As to your question, Belle babysits for the child often. It was only a matter of time. Now you can be off and out of my way, and Emma will be so desperate to find the girl that she won’t be looking for me. In this land they call that a win-win.” After pondering over something, she added, “When you have broken the blood lock, dispose of the body well out of the harbor, in the open water. It will take Swan’s search longer, and I can use all the extra time you can give me.”

“I shall. Well.” He grinned and extended a hand. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“No, it hasn’t. Off you go.”

Blackbeard stepped carefully through the puddle and grabbed a handful of the baby’s clothing, lifting it. The ship was as good as his.

The Jolly Roger needed to be ready, in case her captain somehow survived though his life’s purpose. It had fallen into a state of disrepair upon coming to this world – or, if Swan were to have her say, in the year he had been dead.

So, Killian had set his crew to the task of making the repairs that should have happened routinely: patching the sails, scraping barnacles, and other chores that would make the Jolly sea-worthy again.

He was winding some rope on the deck when he heard boots tromping down the dock, inexorably towards his ship.

Standing, he maneuvered over some sails that Cecco was fixing and peered over the side of the ship to observe his visitor.

It was Blackbeard, pacing along with a baby in hand – literally in hand, to Killian’s consternation—roughly toting the infant by the back of her collar, swinging her along as though she was as of little consequence as a sack of meal.

It was Ariadne. Killian would have recognized that hair anywhere.

“Oy!” he called out, leaning over the beam. “What do you think you are you doing?”

Blackbeard halted, startled, and squinted against the glare of the sun until he saw his foe. “Hook!” The man sounded delighted. “I wasn’t aware you were on board. Oh, well. It will work just as well this way.” Ariadne swayed freely in his grip. She didn’t appear to be crying, but she obviously wasn’t comfortable.

“What are you doing with that baby?” Killian demanded, trying to get his temper under control. If the rotten miscreant had any idea he was getting to Killian, Ariadne would be lost far sooner than she could be saved.

“Well I have to break that infuriating blood magic lock on my dear ship, of course. And this?” Blackbeard lifted the baby. “Like it or not, this is your blood.”

The Jolly’s crew was by now accumulating near their captain’s side, watching the proceedings.

Unimpressed, Blackbeard continued his monologue. “My plan was to use her blood to break the lock, then toss the remains into the harbor for chum. Much as you did to me. Sadly, there wouldn’t be a mermaid to save her.”

Killian’s vision went red, and for a second he was so furious he couldn’t even see clearly. “You are insane, and completely without honor or any kind of code. Even pirates would be glad to hang you, given the chance. You-”

“Spare me, please. I can imagine the rest.” Blackbeard continued to hold Ariadne aloft. Incredibly she wasn’t wiggling, and she looked for all the world like a tiny kitten being held by the scruff, her little legs and arms tucked up against her body for warmth. Only clothed in a cotton one-piece outfit, without even the benefit of a hat or cloak to protect her from the chilly spring air, she was shivering piteously. “You want your moppet back unharmed? Give me the ship, with no argument or resistance, and this is yours. Fair bargain, yes?”

The Dark One dagger, bestowed upon him by Morgan the previous night, was locked in his safe. Giving up the ship, his beloved ship, would also mean leaving it behind.

He opened his mouth to give Blackbeard his answer.

Cliffhanger! Sorry about the wait on this, folks. I know I said two weeks, and it kinda turned into four. I had some serious writer’s block, and ended up adding several scenes I hadn’t been planning on. Special thanks to @teamhook on tumblr who helped me think of baby names for a CS baby middle name. This chapter got a bit angsty, and I wasn’t too pleased with how it turned out, but I hoped you liked reading it. Enjoy the Captain Charming episode Sunday, everyone!

Chapter Text

“I need your word you will uphold the bargain, and it’s done.” Even Killian was amazed at how readily he acceded. “Because I know I cannot appeal to your honor.”

“As long as you uphold your end, why not? This is naught but five and a half kilograms of fish food to me, Hook. Now, all of you, off the ship.”

“I need to retrieve something from below deck first.”

“I haven’t time for that. You are on the clock, Hook.”

Killian waved at his crew to fall in line, not meeting their eyes. Each of them willingly moved down the gangplank, tailing their captain.

When each of them were standing on the dry dock, Killian held out his arms. “It’s yours, now give her here.”

Swan had explained to him that she’d put a clause on the blood lock, to allow his crew to move freely on and off the ship: Those Killian willed to be allowed on board, would be. He could only hope that his hatred of the idea of Blackbeard boarding and commandeering his ship didn’t interfere with the magic.

Blackbeard brought the child to his chest and scanned the crew with a frown. “Y’might not think much of me, Hook, but even you must know I can count. I know your underlings. One is missing. I warrant he is waiting for me below deck, to ambush me. And here I trusted you.” Drawing a dagger, the man stepped back. He did not turn the weapon on the baby, but Killian felt his heart seize, and he lifted a placating hand.

“You’re thinking of Starkey. I dismissed days earlier; he is no longer a part of my crew. You won’t find him on the ship, above deck or below, I assure you.”

“Do you now?” Blackbeard tilted his head thoughtfully. “Starkey, mmm? I suppose even if he is on board, I can handle one aging sailor. Well then, our deal is complete.” Refusing to turn his back on the crew, Blackbeard began to circle around them, until his heels were touching the edge of the gangplank. “Take her, if you’d like.”

Killian had Ariadne harbored in his arms almost before Blackbeard began the offer.

Shrugging off his jacket with one arm, he then switched the baby to the other so he could fully remove the garment. Swinging it around, he molded Ariadne against his shoulder, just as he’d seen Swan do, and covered her as best he could with the long, unwieldy outerwear. “There, sweet one. Let’s get you warm.”

He held her close, telling himself he was transferring body heat, but he was secretly basking in the simple solace that she was sound, until he saw his crew watching him mutely.

Beginning and subsequently failing to speak a few times, Killian eventually simply said, “I’m sorry, lads.”

Cecco stared out at the horizon. “Well,” he said eventually. “It is only a ship, at that. Ain’t it?”

Bobbing his head in agreement, smiling with a sheepish sort of relief, Smee stammered, “Can’t argue with that.”

Face pinched with anger, Morgan spat, “That blackguard deserved a lot more than walking the plank, with what he did to the captain’s daughter just now. I stand with your decision, sir.”

Jukes grunted. “Aye.”

Cecco laughed darkly. “Only cons’lation is he’s going to have quite a-time gettin’ the Jolly seaworthy all by his lonesome. We didn’t even get a chance to put ’er back together. Bettin’ it’ll take a few days, at least.”

From beneath the jacket came a soft cry, almost too quiet for Killian to hear. The thought of what Blackbeard had planned to do to her, how he had treated the infant, was stirring in him a murderous rage. He was going to terminate the scoundrel as soon as the opportunity presented itself, regardless of whether Swan tried to stop him. He may have owed Blackbeard the ship, but he didn’t owe the man his life.

His first priority, though, was to take Ariadne out of the cold, and to safety. “Forget about him. I need to get the baby inside.”

“I could drive you to Miss Emma’s house, sir,” Smee volunteered. “If you’d like.”

“Well, if the baby’s here, Swan won’t be there,” Killian thought aloud. “She would be out looking for her.”

“We could call her,” said Morgan. “Any of you blokes have her number?”

There was shuffling, grumbling, and an overall negative response.

Jukes said, “The house belonging to Starkey’s duchess is not even a mile from here. I think he might have had her cell number. He liked the baby, and Swan let him visit sometimes. At the very least, the duchess might have a phone book with the number to the sheriff’s station.”

It was the soundest suggestion Killian had heard thus far. “Then take me there.”

“Never saw your fairy last night,” Maleficent said with regret. “I flew over the town several times.”

Even in human form, she towered over Emma in her heels. Emma always felt like she was dressed too casually when she stood near the glamorous former villain.

“Well, thanks for the help,” Emma said sincerely.

“Although, you might want to look into seeing if that man, Wolsey – the one who calls himself Little Boy Blue – has a building permit. He’s constructing some sort of shed in his backyard, and it doesn’t seem particularly sturdy. And it looks like a few of your roof shingles are loose, perhaps because of that storm we had last month.”

Maybe I need to hire Maleficent on as a deputy next. “I’ll look into it.” Right after I solve the problem of the malcontent fairy.

“If you don’t catch Mim today, I am available for duty again tonight. Goodbye, Emma, and good luck.”

Accepting her to-go cup of coffee from Granny, Maleficent left the diner, scattering some of the patrons who were still leery of her on her way through the doors.

“What’ll it be, sheriff?” Granny asked Emma, fists smashing onto her hips. “And where’s that little sweetheart of yours? You know I can’t start my day until I say hello to her.”

“Oh, you know. She’s got a lot of important baby business to attend to, and couldn’t make it.”

Granny, apparently not in the mood for humor in the middle of her breakfast rush, tapped her pen to her order pad and scowled.

“Kidding. She’s with Belle.” Reading the menu that she’d memorized years ago, Emma said, “I think I’ll have the hashbrowns with ham, and a coffee to go. Oh, and a cinnamon roll and two mini muffins. Please.” Realistically, she probably didn’t really have time for a breakfast that wasn't entirely finger food; but after a day devoted entirely to running all over town (and the potential of another looming before her), she needed to keep up her energy levels.

In other words, bring on the carbs. Until she crashed later and regretted every bite.

Her cell rang, and Emma fumbled around for a few seconds before getting it out of her pocket. She was stunned to hear an incoherent Belle on the other end, crying so hard Emma could barely understand her beyond the words please, baby, and hurry.

“I’ll be right there,” Emma promised, almost bumping into August and Geppetto on her way out of the diner.

She thought Belle might have cried No! right before she ended the call, but she didn’t dare take the time to call her back.

One Year Ago

The Underworld.

Killian had known that something was physically wrong with Emma, and if he told her his plan, she would insist on accompanying him instead of getting much needed rest.

He also knew that if Milah woke and found him missing, she would panic. Therefore, he found himself in a bit of a conundrum. He’d realized that he had missed the most obvious opportunity of simply leaving Milah a note, but there was not much to be done about it at that point.

So he had waited hours for Emma to finally fall deeply asleep before briefly returning to Milah’s house and waking her, just to let her know he was fully recovered from his injuries, and hadn’t disappeared or been recaptured.

Milah had been less than delighted to find out that he’d left her house in his state.

“Are you crazy?” she’d asked, leaping out of her bed. “You couldn’t even wait until it was light out? When I could help you? You know, just because the other souls here haven’t moved on, doesn’t mean some of them don’t deserve the worse fate. You were in no position to defend yourself and-” She broke off to sigh sadly. “Let’s be honest, you’ve made some enemies in your time. Was it really something that couldn’t wait for a few hours? Don’t get me wrong, I am glad she was able to heal you, but...”

“Yes,” he’d said. “It really was. Milah, her son is with her. I have to help them leave, as soon as possible.”

She’d calmed. “Oh – Your – Your lad?”

“Actually, your boy’s lad.”

Astonished by the revelation – not that he could blame her; his own reaction in Granny’s diner all those months ago had been much the same – she’d begun to pace around her bed, putting the pieces together. “You mean to say, Baelfire-”

“Yes.”

“And you’re with her now?” She had been more confused than reproachful, scratching at the straps of her thin nightgown where they dug into her shoulder.

“In fairness, I was somewhat smitten with her even before I knew of their connection. And they hadn’t been together in years.”

“Well, then, I would like to meet this boy. My grandchild. And his mother.”

“I’m sure Emma would be happy to. I will ask her about it before...”

“Before what?”

He hadn’t wanted to broach the subject with her. It was a personal matter between himself and Emma, after all.

Yet, Milah was due an explanation.

“Well, as I told you earlier tonight, she came here for me. To bring me back.”

Milah had tossed her curls, laughing. Not condescendingly; just a hysterical reaction of disbelief, frightened on his behalf. “How does she think she can accomplish that?” Halting and leaning forward to plant her hands on the bedspread, she’d uttered, “It’s impossible. Nobody has ever gone back, Killian; it’s...It’s death. I am sorry to sound so harsh...”

He had heard Hades’ words in her mouth, and was pained by them. “She wants to split her heart and give me half.”

“That doesn’t sound like it would work,” Milah said in her frank way. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt.”

“It could work. Her parents did it.”

“Well, if you want to go back, Killian, I’ll help you. All right? All you have to do is ask. Once, you helped me change my life situation. If I can repay you that, it will make me happier than you could ever know.”

Chagrined, Killian had stared at the floor. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure I should.”

“What, go back? Why ever not? If I had the chance, I would go. I think anyone down here would.”

“I am here because I did something terrible. To Emma, and her loved ones.”

Milah chuckled. “My Killian. Always so dramatic. It couldn’t have been that awful. She’s here, yes? So the real question is, do you want to go back?”

“I want to face the consequences of my decisions.”

Knowingly, tenderly, she appraised him. “I think you want to go back, Killian.” She’d begun her path around the bed again, as if set in a track.

“I’ve had more than two hundred years of life. Maybe it’s time...”

“I still cannot believe it has been that long...What were you doing for centuries? I don’t understand...”

Strange, how he had always thought he'd be proud to tell her. He wasn’t. “I was trying to get revenge. For you.”

“Oh, Killian...Why? Why would you have ever thought I would want you to do that to yourself?”

“Because I was not thinking clearly, and I believed it was all I had left to give you.” Killian had leaned against a wardrobe. “And the worst part is, I did many other horrible things in the name of killing Rumpelstiltskin, including letting Pan take your son.”

“Peter Pan? You mean that little snot who runs the pawn shop?”

Something about the way she had said it – the cavalier disregard for the closest thing to a demon he had ever encountered, in a way that was pure Milah - briefly unburdened all the dark feelings weighing on him, and he had almost smiled. “The very same.”

Her pacing was distracting him, so on her next pass, her caught her arm gently and slowed her until she stopped.

She looked at his face. “What you did to Bae was wrong, there is no question. But it isn't anything I haven’t done. So I cannot be angry with you.” Gaze drifting upward, towards the shadows on the ceiling, she added, “I just wish I could tell him how sorry I am. How much I regret leaving him behind. Hades said he died, and I know he was telling the truth. I saw his stone, tipped, in the graveyard. So I know he is in a better place. Still, it would have given me so much peace of mind if I could have apologized, and told him I loved him.”

‘Hades said’.

Again.

Though she was obviously perfectly sincere about what she said of Bae, a dreadful, unfaithful notion was prying at him. A suspicion that made him despise himself, made him want to rage and scream for even considering it.

Was Milah working for Hades?

Encumbered by mistrust, he had told her, “I understand perfectly,” and then made his excuses before returning to his sinister reproduction of a home.

He had to protect Emma. He had to. Even if it meant seeing somebody he trusted as a potential threat. For all he knew, it might not even be the real Milah; just a trick of Hades.

Back home, he crossed paths with Henry, who was on his way out the door. After verifying the lad’s business, Killian went upstairs and to his bedroom to take a shower. Tossing his clothing in the hamper, he stepped into the stall and turned the handle until the water was almost hot enough to peel skin.

He found it wasn’t enough, however, to burn away the worry that was feeding off of him.

When he finally finished, he realized that he had forgotten to bring fresh clothing with him. Seeing as there was an archer and a queen lurking somewhere in the house to consider, he re-dressed before going to the closet to find a clean shirt.

Emma was still at rest, breathing evenly. With her blonde hair spilled over her pillow and an arm thrown up over her head, she was equal parts radiant and charming in her sleep.

He opened the closet as slowly as possible, but the hinges squeaked midway through, and Emma jolted, lifting her head and blinking sleepily.

“I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right.” Pushing back the covers, she yawned. “It’s probably time we did this heart split and got out of here, anyway.”

“It seems we will have to wait a bit for that. Your parents should probably join us first, and Henry went to the bakery to get donuts for breakfast.” Horrible diet choice, of course; but not something to be worried about in this situation. “Also...Much as I still loathe the man, I suppose we cannot leave Rumpelstiltskin down here.”
He was about to tell her about his visit with Milah, and inform her of his reservations about Milah and Hades before finding out if Emma wanted Henry to meet his grandmother, but Emma cast her own question first.

“Henry went out there alone?”

Killian repeated the assurance Henry had presented him. “Regina gave him an enchanted compact mirror and told him to use it if he needed help.” Taking the first shirt he saw, Killian began to fiddle with his brace. “He should be back soon.” And Henry wasn’t the only one who needed to be accounted for. “Have you any notion where that crocodile is? Out of curiosity, why did you bring him?”

“Using his blood was the only way to get here. But...there’s something you should know. When you destroyed the Dark Ones...Killian, he channeled all that power back into himself. He is the Dark One again.”

Blocking out everything else but what she had said, he didn’t know whether to be furious or horrified. All of those voices, all of that dark insanity that had once whispered in his mind and taken hold of him, gleefully claimed by Rumpelstiltskin...The madness would begin all over again.

Killian lost hold of his brace, uttered a word that Liam had scolded him for saying as a teenager, and tried to compose himself. “So, my only good deed through all of this was undone. I couldn’t even destroy the darkness.”

“Hey. You couldn’t have known. It’s his fault.”

Sickened, Killian said, “Tell me at least you didn’t make some sort of deal to enlist his help in this rescue.”

“No. I threatened him.”

Emma truly was one of a kind.

He chuckled appreciatively, then asked her about the heart split, and she obligingly went into details that had him nearly convinced it would work.

If he did it.

At the conclusion of her explanation, Emma started to get out of bed, and just as quickly fell back onto the quilt, looking ill and shaky. It seemed rest had not ameliorated whatever was ailing her.

“Emma? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Tamping down his fear as best as he could, he pleaded with her to open up so that he could help her, and for a moment, it seemed like she wanted to confide in him.

But as the silence dragged on, becoming more and more heavy with each passing second, he realized she couldn’t or wouldn’t.

He mumbled something stupid about getting her cocoa, which she declined.

Maybe he’d lost that trust he so treasured with her, and perhaps he deserved to; but even if he had, he still wanted to do whatever he could for her.

Desperate to do something proactive, he went to her side, sat down, and drew her into a hug, trying to thing of the right thing to say.

Naturally, at that moment, the door had to crash open.

“Oh. Oh. Sorry, guys,” Henry said from the doorway. “Didn’t mean to barge in. But I just met someone outside when I was on my way back. He’s looking for Killian.”

The first possibility that came to Killian’s mind was that it was one of the people he had killed in his pirate years, come to find revenge. “I’ll be right back.” Collecting his brace, he donned his hook while Emma came to his side.

“Not without me,” she informed him. “Hades is still out there; who knows what kinds of tricks he’s capable of?”

“Emma -”

“I didn’t come all the way here just to lose you again. We go together or we don’t go at all.”

He wished he could have kissed her then. But the bitter reminder of the way he’d betrayed her festered still, and a wall had seemed to be rebuilt between them. So, he simply agreed with her, and they went downstairs to the front door.

Like the team they had been.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

Mentally preparing himself for whatever waited on the other side, Killian opened the door.

“Liam?” he stammered, face to face with his...

His brother. Just as he remembered him; all proper posture and reserved smile. “Killian. I heard the rumors, but I didn’t think...”

Not waiting for him to finish, Killian stepped forward and into his brother’s arms, hugging him tightly.

Storybrooke

Present Day

“No.”

When Emma ran inside of Belle’s house and found the woman sitting on the kitchen floor, Belle repeated the last word Emma had heard her say over the phone.

Hand pressed to the back of her head, and obviously dazed, Belle still managed to weep, “No, no, no, no, Emma, that is what I was trying to tell you...You weren’t supposed to come here, you have to go save her!”

“What happened?” The installed wall phone, dangling from its cord near Belle, was beeping steadily to be placed back in its cradle, and the floor was soaked.

Emma quickly healed Belle with magic, then leaned down to help her stand.

“Blackbeard, he came here, attacked us,” Belle babbled. “He said he wanted Adi. Then Mim showed up, and that is the last thing I remember. When I woke up, Adi was gone. Emma, I’m so sorry. My cell phone broke when I fell, so I had to use the landline. I tried to tell you to go and look for her right away...If I only could have texted you, maybe I could have made more sense...I’m sorry, Emma!”

“Why, why would Blackbeard want her?” Belle’s fear was furthering her own fright over the situation, but Emma knew that if she wanted a chance of saving her daughter, she had to figure out why – that would tell here where to find them. “Belle, why?”

“I have no idea. He didn’t say, he just-”

“Okay. Okay.” Emma tried to control her breathing, which was coming very close to hyperventilation. God, her baby...

“Go check on Reynard,” Emma said mechanically. Regina had once told her that baby parts were more common in spells than anybody would like to think. There was, however, no reason to remind Belle of that. “Just to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” Belle gasped.

And she’d ended up scaring her anyway. “Because,” she confessed. “They might need an ingredient, like blood for Mim’s magic, or...”

Blood.

Magic.

Blackbeard.

Jolly Roger.

Her cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.

The duchess, a dignified, elegant woman in her late fifties with graying hair, accepted Killian’s crew into the house with a charming smile, leading them to a sitting room where Starkey was reading a large, black and white sheet of paper, with large proclamations printed upon it.

“Thomas, your friends are here. I believe they need our help,” she said calmly, crossing her arms over her long robe.

Folding his paper, Starkey took in the sight of his captain, carrying an infant swaddled in leather, with the rest of the crew gathered behind them. “I do believe you’re right, Claire,” he said mildly, setting his reading material aside, taking off his small glasses, and getting to his feet. “What brings you here this early, Captain?”

“First, allow me to find that baby a proper blanket,” fussed the duchess, the ends of her robe’s belt twirling as she turned. “I will return shortly.”

“We need...” Killian tried to remember the correct term. The talking devices didn’t use addresses, and not letters...

“Phone number,” Morgan broke in. “You have Emma’s? Or a phone book?”

“I do have Emma’s number, as I told the captain earlier.”

Ariadne whined, and without thinking, Killian began to gently sway back and forth.

Starkey was correct; with the prompting, Killian did recall Starkey mentioning he had Emma’s numbers, right before Killian had dismissed him from the Jolly. The words hadn’t meant anything to him back then.

“What happened?” Starkey inquired as he took his square machine from the pocket of his strange, loose plaid pants.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Killian retorted. “Just let Emma know her baby is here.”

“I’ll text her.” Starkey worked his thumbs across the square, then nodded. “Done.”

“Now what?”

“We wait for her to reply. If she doesn’t, I’ll go ahead and call her.”

Without warning, Ariadne burst into cries, startling every adult in the room. Killian helplessly patted at her back, not knowing what to do. He had managed to calm her back in the convent, but at the time he’d known Swan was close at hand, should he need backup.

“I’m just gonna go...wait outside,” Jukes called over the sound, wincing.

“Me, too,” Cecco agreed, and the rest of the crew followed suit shortly thereafter. Soon only Killian and Starkey remained.

“Try walking with her,” Starkey, apparently his only loyal pirate, offered. “Sing to her.”

“Sing?” Humming to her, as he had done the other day, was one thing, but -

“Well, sir, she’s not a sailor! You can’t exactly threaten her with swabbing the decks because of undesirable behavior.”

The man had a point. But Killian was not going to sing.

“Oh, my, my. What has baby so worked up?” The duchess asked, sweeping back into the room with a soft blanket.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Killian grunted as Ariadne squirmed. “I must have done something wrong, or something to upset her.”

“Oh, nonsense. This is simply the only way she has of telling you she needs something,” the duchess told him, patting his arm. “You’re doing fine, my darling boy.”

Shaking out the blanket, the woman gestured to the padded armchair that Starkey had vacated. “Now, time to swaddle the baby. I had three, and I know my way around little ones.”

Relieved to find somebody who knew what they were doing, Killian began to hand Ariadne to her, even though everything in him didn’t want to let go.

“Certainly not! I am going to teach you. You’re going to do it, and that’s that.”

Holding up his hook, Killian said, “Not sure this hardware is conducive to such an undertaking.”

“Nonsense. Does that stop you from doing anything else?”

Killian didn’t like it when somebody got the better of him. Admittedly, Swan was a special case, but that was another story.

“Before that happens, I need to make sure she isn’t injured,” he told the woman, removing the jacket and tossing it aside. “Blackbeard had kidnapped her, brought her to the docks out in the cold-”

“Hmm.” The duchess examined Ariadne, lifting her arms and legs carefully, and then guiding them to a lamp and peering closely into her eyes. “No bruising, and she doesn’t have frostbite. No eye dilation, and that is good. We’ll keep close watch, but for now, I think she’s no worse for the wear.”

Herding him over to the armchair next, she draped the blanket over his hook.

“Now, put the blanket down on the seat cushion first, in a diamond position. That’s right. Fold the top part of the diamond down and place her on the blanket with her neck aligned with the folded part. There, you have it. Easier than tying one of your sailor’s knots, isn’t it?”

Her smooth, calm instructions, delivered as guidance instead of orders, eased Killian’s tense nerves, even though Ariadne continued to cry.

“Just be sure to hold her in place, so she doesn’t fall off of the seat. It can happen in the blink of an eye, you know. Now, position her little arm against her side and fold the blanket over, until you can tuck it under her back on the opposite side. Pull it tightly enough so she can’t get her arm free, but not so tightly it suffocates her.”

Killian paused. “This seems somewhat cruel, binding her like this.”

“I assure you, it isn’t. It reminds her of being in the womb, and it will give her comfort in the same way a hug from a loved one would give us comfort. Now, secure her other arm, lift the bottom of the blanket and tuck it, and then, wrap up the other side.”

“How did you learn to do all of this?” Killian wondered as he finished successfully turning his – the baby – into a tiny croissant roll.

“My cursed persona was a retired pediatrician.” The duchess extended her hand towards Ariadne, who was still crying. “She wants you to hold her. There’s a rocking chair right in the other corner. Go ahead.”

As if he didn’t feel unqualified enough already. Taking care with his hook, he scooped up Ariadne and brought her to the chair, holding her in the crook of his arm while he rocked her.

In just a few breaths, Ariadne was almost completely silent, wails ending as if they’d never begun. The blanket technique was a miracle.

“See how safe she feels with you?” asked the duchess, pleased. Snugging the collar of her robe closer to her neck, she added, “Just keep rocking her, and call me if anything further happens. If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I’m still not ready for the day, and now that Ariadne's safe, I feel I must get presentable.”

“Your assistance is very appreciated, Your Grace,” Killian said, bowing his head in respect. “Thank you.”

When the duchess had left again, Killian found his former crew member, who had reclaimed his seat and taken up his paper and glasses.

“Emma texted me back while you were learning to swathe your daughter, Captain,” Starkey said pleasantly, licking his thumb and turning the next page. “I let her know the baby is safe, and here at our house. She is on her way.”

Killian tried to force ire – it was very difficult to be angry with Ariadne’s small body cradled to his chest – and hissed, “You should have told me sooner.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t want to interrupt my Claire, and she was teaching you something important.”

Killian glared, ready to remind the man of exactly who was captain, but was preempted when he heard a soft, satisfied sigh from his arms.

He should not have looked down.

Those enormous blue eyes captivated him without any difficulty whatsoever, and he felt himself weakening, unable to help tracing the side of her round cheek with his finger. In answer, she closed her eyes, scrunched her nose, and yawned, drowsily content.

“I’m very glad you have taken a shine to her, Captain,” Starkey commented. “She needs you.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“It’s true.”

Earlier blustering seemed to have gotten him nowhere with Starkey, so Killian switched topics instead. “How did you meet the duchess? She is a fine lady.”

“Ahh.” Setting his paper in his lap, Starkey folded his hands and smiled. “I’m not so sure it is a tale that would interest you, sir.”

“And maybe it would.” Killian pushed back the chair to continue rocking.

“Do you remember, more than fifty, sixty years ago, before the curse even happened – when we were still working for Pan?”

“Aye.”

“During one of that awful boy’s ‘errands’, you allowed me four days’ shore leave.” Drifting off into the memory, Starkey dug his elbows into the arms of the furniture. “Well, while I was carousing through a remote village in Misthaven, acting like the worthless pirate I was, I bumped into a beautiful young woman and her three small children. She needed help.”

“She had been recently widowed by a duke. Her departed husband’s brother, unfortunately, wanted to inherit the wealth and power entitled to her and her children, and had enlisted his butler to kidnap and kill her, and his own nephews and niece!”

“The butler, Edgar, added sleeping potion to their meals, and then took them far from their home to finish the job, but Claire was a fighter. When she and the children woke, she fought Edgar, and in the ensuing struggle was able to take her children and flee.”

“But they were far from home, and lost. Her only ally and living relative was her mother, Adelaide. In hopes of a reward, I offered to take her and the children to her mother’s, for sanctuary from her brother-in-law. But...”

“You ended up falling for her,” Killian interpreted.

“Yes. Her and her children, Marie, Berlioz, and Toulouse; I ended up loving them all. We had quite an adventure in the days that it took to get them home. I ended up refusing the reward. It was difficult to turn away from them, and I think I quite hurt Claire when I disappeared after they were reunited with Adelaide.”

Killian, unable to understand, asked, “Why did you return to the Jolly? Why not stay with them?” Why voluntarily go back to Neverland when he had a whole future to look forward to?

“A lot of reasons, most of which I am not proud of. The death of her husband, her duke, was still too fresh, I think. Though it was an arranged marriage and they hadn’t been in love, they were very fond of each other, and he was a good father to his children. Too, Claire was much younger than me at the time. I was in my late forties, and she was only twenty nine. I didn’t think she could be truly interested in me. It left me...uncertain. In addition to that, there was the possibility that she would reject me when she found out I was a pirate. I told her my last name was O’Malley, instead of Starkey, in case my name was associated with the crew.”

“So, you were afraid,” Killian said without judgment.

“Well, there was also the fact that my captain was expecting me back. I couldn’t ever abandon him.”

So, during Pan’s errands, Starkey had been pursuing noble deeds, while Killian had been doing things such as robbing young lasses of their voices, and murdering tied up, innocent peasants pleading with him for their lives.

Just why did Swan want to be with him, again?

“Ha. Look at that, Captain. She’s as good of an escape artist as you.”

While Starkey had been talking, Ariadne had worked an arm free of the blanket, and was holding the limb aloft as if not quite sure what she should do with it.

Fingers spread stiffly in various directions, she seemed to appeal to Killian to help.

He laughed, a calming, passive feeling replacing the anger churning within his gut. “Don’t look at me, my love. You’re the one who got yourself out of the blanket.”

Though she didn’t know what he was saying, she squalled irritably, waving her hand back and forth.

“All right, all right, then! My sincerest apologies, sweet princess; I do beg your apology for my folly.”

Catching her hand on his finger, he kissed the small knuckles and beamed at her.

Trilling delightedly at the attention, her mouth curled in a returning smile, tantrum averted as she locked her eyes on him.

They watched each other for several moments; Ariadne with her uninhibited baby manner of studying a face, and Killian trying to memorize what she looked like.

When he lifted his head, it was to see Starkey watching him smugly.

“Aye, Mr. Starkey?” Killian demanded archly.

“You will think me out of turn saying this, but she is already doing your heart a world of good. And I am glad of it.”

Starkey surely wouldn’t be so pleased if he knew of the deeds and deceptions Killian had perpetrated over the last days.

However -

He had done something right. He had saved Ariadne.

She needs you.

He absentmindedly combed his fingers through her messy hair, trying to fix it; slowly, so his rings didn’t snag any of the locks. “So, Starkey, your tale seems to have resolved happily.”

Starkey nodded briefly. “Once the curse broke here, Claire and I recognized each other. The ironic part is that I wasted all that time thinking that she was too young for me, and now, because of my decades in Neverland, she is almost ten years older than me. And it doesn’t make a bit of difference. Not when it’s true love.”

Killian managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“Her children are grown now, but they live in town as well. She forgave me for leaving, because she said she believes in second chances.”

It didn’t take a philosopher do realize where he was going with this. “And now is my chance, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s up to you, sir,” Starkey said. “Now isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“A baby?”

Liam wandered to Emma’s crib and looked inside, exhaling when he found it empty. “Is the baby back in your real home? That is for the best, but I would have liked to meet the child. Do I have a nephew, a niece?”

Killian, who hadn’t stopped smiling since his brother appeared, said, “Oh, there isn’t...We don’t have a baby. I noticed the crib last night, but I’m not really sure what it is doing here.”

Both of the men turned to Emma at once, with identical, inquisitive head tilts. They might not have looked much alike physically, but their mannerisms mirrored each other’s almost exactly.

And they wanted answers.

Regina, sitting with Robin and Henry near the crib, met Emma’s eyes, and her brows shot up almost to her hairline. Queen of subtlety, she was not.

“It’s my crib. Or it was supposed to be,” Emma said, as if that explained everything perfectly.

Regina began coughing in clipped, controlled little bursts. As if Emma couldn’t get the hint.

Okay, so she was omitting a little fact.

(A critical fact.)

But right then, Killian was overjoyed to see his brother, and she didn’t want to overshadow that. Not to mention that it was something Killian should hear first, and privately.

Emma would never forget the disaster of being crammed in Neal’s apartment with Henry and Gold in New York, and the shouting and awkwardness and hurt feelings as the truth was revealed. That was definitely something she didn’t need to relive.

“Ahh, Swan. I’m sorry, love,” Killian said, and if he was his usual self, he probably would have come to her and held her and done that comforting thing where he kissed her temple while nuzzling her.

But he held back, and Liam took the opportunity to clap his brother on the back. “It really is good to see you, Killian,” he said warmly, and it made Emma immeasurably glad to see the real love this man had for Killian.

Even if she was getting weird vibes from the guy.

Casting a sidelong look to Regina, Emma saw the same cynicism written plainly on the other woman’s face.

“You mean that?” Killian asked. “Even after hearing everything I just told you? All the terrible deeds I committed since your passing?”

“Always, brother.”

Looking validated and relieved, Killian responded in kind. “It is wonderful to be with you again, Liam.”

“And, ahh, how did you happen to know Hook was here?” Regina asked Liam in her tart, talking-to-peasants voice.

Running a hand over his short hair, Liam did not immediately answer.

Henry glanced at Regina, then Killian, then Emma, wary of the tension in the room, and Robin was tapping his thumb against the side of the sofa in agitation.

Emma was frustrated to realize that she couldn’t tell whether or not Liam’s hesitation was because the question had unsettled him, but his forthcoming verbal response would give her enough to get a feel for what he was thinking

Liam dropped his hand from his scalp. “I’m sorry, you are?”

“Regina Mills, but some call me the Evil Queen,” Regina said through set teeth. Emma could tell that she was every bit as annoyed by his recalcitrance as Emma.

“Oh, yes, Killian talked a bit about you when he was catching me up. I am his brother Liam. A pleasure, Highness.”

“Likewise. Now, about my question?”

“How did I know my brother had arrived? Well, not much happens here. When something interesting goes down, you tend to hear about it. Particularly when you run the Underworld’s only bar.”

Not lying, but not a straightforward answer, any more than Emma’s own regarding the crib.

With a syrupy smile, Regina said, “Well, I’m sure Hook is just thrilled, and I have no doubt you would like to visit some more, but honestly we are in a bit of a time crunch.”

Oh, Emma knew that voice. It took her back to the first year she’d lived in Storybrooke – the calm and very reasonable Mayor Mills tone that preceded a stab in the back.

It meant, that for whatever reason, Regina saw Liam as a threat – or at the very least, she didn’t trust him, and she was planning on protecting her family.

Disloyal to Killian as it might have been, Emma couldn’t really blame her. Something about Liam was...off. Why was he still in the Underworld? Better yet, why was he there to begin with? What was his unfinished business?

“Don’t want to stay here, hey?” Liam joked. “Well, I can understand that. If I can have just a bit more of Killian’s time before you go...”

“Naturally,” Regina said before Emma could speak. “Come on, Emma, let’s get your heart ready. Snow and David will be here soon.”

“Wait, I need to get your mother out of Hades’ dungeon, Regina,” Killian said. “I promised Cora I would help, in exchange for her aiding my escape.”

“So that’s where she disappeared to,” Regina murmured, and Emma could see the conflict within her. Cora had caused her a lot of pain in the past, but Regina obviously wouldn’t want to see her mother enslaved to Hades for eternity. “All right. We will save her before leaving. And don’t forget, we need to get Graham, too. In any event, there’s nothing wrong with bringing Hook back to life as soon as possible. So we’ll do the heart split now.”

Graham? Did that mean...Was Regina really going to go through with it?

Killian was looking at her questioningly. If she had to guess, he was probably wondering, ‘that Graham? your Graham?'

It was a conversation to be saved for later.

“Upstairs, Ms. Swan.” Then, more hushed, Regina added, “I’d rather not...In front of Henry. He’s seen enough over the last few weeks.”

“Wh – Wait, Emma,” Killian said, stepping in her direction, “do you want me to be there with you? It’s not an easy thing to endure, having your heart taken, and -”

“It’s a simple heart removal; she’s not giving birth,” Regina said crisply.

Emma almost smacked her own forehead. Thanks for that brick-to-the-face metaphor, Regina.

“I believe you’ve done it yourself, once or twice,” the queen reminded Killian. “Calm down, I know what I'm doing. Have your chat with Linus.”

“Liam,” Killian corrected, his eyes narrowing, measuring; and briefly Emma wondered if Regina had overplayed her hand.

“I’ll be fine, Killian, thanks,” Emma told him quickly. “Robin, can you let my parents in when they get here? Front door is locked.”

“Indeed,” he said, too much of a gentleman to add the obvious:

For all the good locking the door would do if Hades had another mythical beast to send after them.

After Regina had dragged her to the upstairs hallway, Emma finally was able to say, “Maybe that was a little much?”

“Oh, come on. We’re both thinking it. Big Brother Jones is not telling us his whole story, and it’s better for you and Hook if I am the one who creates that wedge, and not you.”

Emma was surprised by the reasoning behind Regina’s motives, but before she could thank her for her consideration, Regina added,

“Because Hook’s going to be upset enough when he finds out what you’ve been hiding. Which leads me to my next point. You didn’t tell him about the baby.”

“Um, not yet, but I’m going to. I am definitely going to.”

Making a weighing gesture with her hands, Regina said tiredly, “Can’t get your mother to keep things to herself, and can’t get you to talk. There must be a happy medium in there somewhere. Trust me, the longer you keep this from him, the worse he’s going to feel when it finally comes out.”

“I know, I just haven’t found the right opportunity yet. Regina, he…He might not want to come back.”

Regina waved away the concern. “He’s feeling guilty. Trust me, I know. He’ll eventually come around. He needs to forgive himself first, that’s all. Now, let’s get a look at that heart.”

From downstairs, Emma could hear her parents entering the house, discussing something about James and kissing.

“Do it,” she told Regina.

Thrusting her arm forward, Regina’s hand curled, poised to grasp Emma’s heart.

A burst of magic made them both stumble backward, Emma crying out, and Regina shaking her hand as though she’d received a static shock.

“What was that?”

“I have no idea,” Regina gasped, leaning her shoulder against the wall to catch her breath. “I’ve never seen anything like that. I wonder if this has something to do with you being the Savior. Didn’t you tell me once that when my mother tried to take your heart, she couldn’t?”

“Maybe, but this is different.”

Several pairs of feet pounded on the stairway, the panicked sound of her family rushing upstairs. Killian reached her first.

“Emma, what happened? I heard you yell.” He looked her over, face taut with fear. “Is there something wrong with your heart?”

As attuned to her as he was, he probably would have known if she sneezed on the other side of town. It was incredible he hadn’t figured out she was pregnant. “I’m not sure. For some reason, Regina couldn’t remove it.”

Mary Margaret, who hadn’t even gotten a chance to take off her jacket, walked past them to check on Regina, who was still breathing heavily. “You’re both okay, though?”

“Yes, I think so,” Regina said, sounding aggravated by the failure. “I just don’t understand why it didn’t work.”

“I…Might have a theory about that,” Liam said suddenly. “You’ll have to come with me.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

When Emma arrived at Claire’s home, she saw Killian’s entire crew, minus Starkey, loitering outside.

“Oh, hello Sheriff. The captain and your baby are in the house,” Smee reported, cheeks red with cold. “She seems okay.”

“Thanks,” Emma called out, pushing herself to move faster. All that mattered was getting to Ariadne and seeing for herself that she was safe.

She ran into the house, hoping Claire wouldn’t mind if she didn’t knock, calling for Killian. She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, strained as it sounded. Ariadne, her heart, her soul, could have died. How could she call herself the savior when she hadn’t even saved her child?

“We’re back here, love,” Killian called, and she followed the voice until she came to a small room with a sliding door that opened to the backyard.

Starkey was kicked back on a large, cushioned seat, and on the other side of the room was Killian.

He was in a rocking chair, cuddling Ariadne, who in turn was wrapped in a blanket, hand free and holding the charms on Killian’s necklace, gurgling softly to herself.

Starkey said, without prompting, “Miss Emma, Blackbeard was going to kill her. Captain saved her life. Sacrificed everything he had.”

Killian looked up at her very seriously, and said, “Emma, she’s fine, I promise; but I think she needs her pacifier and lion.”

And somehow a dam in her burst, and she jumped forward, ending up half-seated on his lap, and nearly rolling the rocker over backwards.

She didn’t notice Starkey quietly slipping out of the room.

Pressing her palm against the side of Ariadne’s head, Emma felt tears wetting her face as she leaned forward and pressed kiss after kiss to her baby, so grateful, so utterly grateful for the warmth and life radiating from the little body.

The angle was not doing Emma any favors, and she felt herself slipping off of Killian’s legs, until he planted his hand at the base of her spine and shifted her back onto him.

“You really rescued her?” she asked, lifting her face to look upon him, not caring that he would see she was crying freely. She asked, not because she didn’t believe he was capable of it, but because she needed to reinforce the proof of his own good heart to him.

Killian flushed uncomfortably, trying to shrug casually despite holding both Emma and Ariadne. “I take it you’re surprised?”

“Not even a little.” She looped an arm around his neck. “But I bet you are.”

“Well, I can’t say I'm too happy I lost my ship,” Killian grumbled. “However...”

He paused to peer down at their daughter, who was currently trying to bring his necklace charms towards her mouth, and his face went soft. “I don’t regret it.”

“Thank you, Killian. Thank you,” Emma said, wiping her face against her upper arm to clear the tears. “Whatever your reasons. I couldn’t live without her. Thank you so much for saving her. I love you.”

They both froze in place as they realized what she had said.

She hadn’t intended to let the last bit slip. She hadn’t. But she wasn’t going to take it back. Not when it was true.

Killian moved his attention from Ariadne to Emma, nose almost brushing Emma’s as he regarded her, holding her gaze wordlessly, uncertainly.

He seemed afraid to smile, and yet refused to look away.

It couldn’t have been that big of a shock to him, could it? Hadn’t everything she’d told him made it obvious?

And yet, she knew all too well the difference between knowing and believing. He wasn’t ready.

Stroking the baby’s hair, Emma focused on a different matter. “I should never have let Ariadne out of my sight with Mim and Blackbeard on the loose. Something was telling me not to, and I did it anyway.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this, love.” Killian’s expression hardened. “Blackbeard is the one responsible, and I will be enacting retribution, you can be sure.”

“Killian...”

“Emma, if you had been there, if you could have seen...If you could have heard what he said...You wouldn’t be trying to stop me now, I can promise you that.”

Taking one of Ariadne’s tiny hands, Emma squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Maybe he was right. Probably he was right. If Cruella was still in the Underworld, she would no doubt agree.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

In the bleak, yellow-red landscape, dust kicking up in the stale breeze, a group of people stood in a cemetery, in front of three markers.

None spoke.

Finally, Killian broke the stillness of the scene.

“When Hades had me, he told me he wanted me to chisel three names onto tombstones. He said whoever I picked would be trapped in the Underworld. I refused.”

And why? Why had he been so idiotic as to assume that would be the end of it? Why hadn’t he just used names that nobody would miss, names of those who deserved to be here: King George, or that bloody author Issac?

Because of his foolish attempts to be something he was not, that was why. Namely, a hero. Look where it had gotten him. Look where it had gotten the ones he loved.

“Seems he was more than willing to make the decision for you,” Regina said dully, hunched beside the stone that now read Regina Mills.

Liam trailed a hand over the top of the headstone that belonged to Emma, and David, to his right, held Snow close while he glared at his wife’s stone.

“What does this mean?” Emma asked, and Killian could hear an unusual treble of fear in her.

“It means you’re not going to be able to leave,” Liam said solemnly. “I am sorry, Emma.”
“And we won’t be able to use your heart to save Hook,” Regina added. “We’re going to have to think of something else.”

Had she doomed her baby before it was even born?

During the short, quiet walk home, it was the only thing Emma could think about. Seeing the letters forming her name, carved into that cold, unforgiving block of stone, had made her realize just how precarious the situation really was for her unborn child.

It gave her a crippling fright that kept her moving in a straight line and tuning out her mother’s repeated attempts to bring hope to the situation.

If Emma was stuck here, what did that mean for the baby? Would it be trapped in the Underworld too, or worse – not born at all?

She couldn't tiptoe around it anymore. Selfish or not, she was terrified, and there was only one person she should be talking to about it.

As soon as they walked through the front door, she was going to ask Killian for a private moment to talk, and explain the situation. Even if he just listened, sharing her emotional burden would be a tremendous relief.

Arriving at the house, the group began walking up the porch stairs when Liam asked, “Killian, might I have a word with you inside?”

Or, maybe she shouldn’t have waited until they were through the door.

“Of course.” He sounded distracted and sad, undoubtedly blaming himself for what Hades had done with the headstones. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

Once inside, Emma started to follow her parents, Regina, Robin and Henry to the living room. Maybe they could start brainstorming ways to escape this latest mess. She would just have to put aside what she was feeling and focus.

She was was stopped, however, by Killian’s voice.

“Emma? You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Her spirits lifted a little as she realized that he wanted here there; he wanted to include her when spending time with his brother.

“I...Yeah, I am.”

When she joined them, she saw Liam considering the toys strewed over the counter, and she flinched.

Why don’t I just strap on one of those fake pregnancy bellies and be done with it? This house couldn’t be making things any more obvious.

She silently pleaded for Liam not to bring it up like he had the crib, and he didn’t. He was unquestionably side-eyeing her, though.

Always a gentleman, Killian pulled out a chair for Emma, even offering a hand as she lowered herself to the chair. Once he was sure she was settled, he asked, “Liam, I’ve told you my story, but what of you? Why have you been detained in this nightmare?”

Deferring, Liam said, “I wish I knew. Believe me, if I did, I would have moved on years ago.”

Lie. Emma didn’t allow herself to even blink, but she was crestfallen. No. Not Killian’s brother, whom he clearly adored.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe her superpower was malfunctioning, the same as her magic.

“There can be no reason,” Killian said with pride. “Hades has the game rigged so that nobody can leave. My brother is proof of that; he never did a bad thing in his life. If he can’t move on, then clearly something is wrong.”

Liam smiled, but it was the same smile that Killian employed when something was making him uneasy, or he was receiving gratitude he didn’t think he deserved.

But Killian wasn’t done praising his brother. “He even died nobly, stopping a treacherous king from poisoning the realm.”

“Stop it, you're making me blush,” Liam insisted, averting his eyes.

Emma offered a tiny, stiff smile of her own, and Liam didn’t miss her hesitancy.

Killian, with the people he loved and uncharacteristically oblivious to the nuances happening around him, said, “Hades has three people I love trapped down here, and that cannot stand.”

Three? What did he mean? Her, Liam, and...Henry? But Henry wasn’t trapped here; his name wasn’t on a headstone.

While Emma wondered, Killian continued, “The only way that everybody can be free is if we defeat Hades once and for all. Liam, you’ve been down here a very long time. Between you and Milah, surely you must know something that can help us.”

Milah? He had found Milah down here? So, that was the third person. Why hadn’t he mentioned her earlier?

“Milah? I wouldn’t count on that lass for help, Killian; not if it’s the same woman I am thinking of. She will not turn against him.” Shaking his head, head, Liam warned, “This is a very dangerous game you are playing. Believe me, you are not the first looking to overthrow Hades. A legend down here spoke of a book, which had the power to defeat him. I tried to find it myself, but I am not even sure what to look for.” He laughed curtly. “Probably just a rumor, circulated to keep the masses from going completely insane.”

The moment he had said the word ‘book’, Emma had concluded only one thing. “I bet it’s a Storybook.”

Baffled and a bit amused, Liam responded, “Storybook? Oh I wager it would take more than stories.”

Immediately taking to her defense, Killian argued, “No, no no she’s onto something. In our world, there is a book like this.”

Liam still seemed doubtful, so Emma backed up what Killian had said. “Remember how we told you everything up there has a version down here? That means there has to be one in the Underworld.”

With cold determination, Killian said, “If there’s a story in that book about Hades, we can learn his weakness and exploit it.”

Recognizing he was outnumbered, Liam sighed. “All right. If you believe in this, Killian, I am with you until the end. This fiend trapped me and tortured you. The day you push your sailors too far...”

Killian finished, “Is the day mutiny begins. Come, let’s see about finding the Storybook.”

The brothers yielded command to Emma after that, following her as she went to collect the others. Henry had strayed upstairs, maybe to eat his donuts, but the rest of her family were waiting.

“Guys,” Emma announced to the room, “thanks to Liam, we can beat Hades. The Storybook is the answer. We just need to find it.”

“Then we need to go to the loft,” Mary Margaret said, beaming. “I know exactly where to start looking.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

As Emma tucked her legs up on his, and Ariadne’s eyes drifted shut, Killian realized he was getting complacent.

And he was liking it too much.

“Swan, now that the baby has been returned to you, I have a pirate to deal with and a ship to recover. So, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Whoa, hey. I’ll help you get the ship back, but seriously, we can’t kill Blackbeard. He’s gonna be locked up for a long time.”

He’d heard that before. “Did I say I was going to kill him?”

“Fine. What are you planning to do?”

“Nothing too drastic. I just need to remove his head from his shoulders.”

“Mmm. That is also on the list of things you can’t do.”

A scowl etched itself into Killian’s forehead. There were moral ideals, and then there was carrying it to the degree of piously allowing evil to happen. He had believed Swan knew the difference, back when they were in the Enchanted Forest together. “You do realize who this man is? What he does?”

“Yeah. And honestly, I am just as furious as you.” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I want him to pay just as much as you. But, I’m the sheriff, and you – I know you’re a better man than Blackbeard. So, let’s stop him together. Like we were going to yesterday.” Emma placed her hand on his, which was supporting her thigh so she wouldn’t fall. Her warm, delicate fingers danced over his rings, causing a most pleasing sensation, and he felt gooseflesh prickle up his arm. “What do you say?”

He really couldn't say no to this woman.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Mary Margaret’s keepsake box, and her numerous shoe boxes, contained only one thing:

Her style accessories.

Regina, leaning over her shoulder, wrinkled her nose at the sight of yet another pair of pumps. “Is this where last year’s styles came to die? Where is the book?”

Slapping the lid back on the box in her lap, Mary Margaret shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. But it can’t be far, right? Let’s search the rest of the loft.”

“I’ll take my room. I mean, my old room,” Emma said, still in the habit of thinking of it as belonging to her.

“Makes sense,” Killian reasoned. “You’d be best able to tell if something is out of place, love, and there isn’t much space up there. We’d be on each other’s toes. I’ll help your parents down here.”

“I will check down here, too,” Regina said. “I want to get back to Henry soon.”

Emma did, too. They had decided to leave him with Robin back at her house, knowing that only so many people could fit in the loft before they were bumping into one another.

“Though, somehow, I doubt we’re going to find anything,” Regina added. “If the book is really the key to defeating Hades, I doubt he left it just lying around.”

Emma was well into the search of her room when Liam appeared, clearly intending to speak to her.

“Liam! Did you come to give me the protective older sibling speech about how I’m not good enough for your little brother?”

She kept a playful smile and a light voice attached to the words, hoping they could move past the tension that had sprung up between them earlier. Maybe he had been lying about whether he knew why he was stuck in the Underworld, but that didn’t necessarily have anything to do with their escape plans.

Besides, Killian trusted him, and Killian was a good judge of people. Best try and make things right with the brother of the man she loved, who was possibly the only ally they had.

After all, wasn’t it possible she’d misjudged him? Liam was most likely just a really good guy trapped in a bad situation.

“Oh, I already know you aren’t good enough for Killian.”

Then again, maybe he was just a jerk.

She waited a few seconds, wondering if she had heard him correctly – because who said something like that? - but was only able to come back with, “What?”

“Killian’s been talking about how it’s his fault he’s down here, but it sounds to me like it’s yours.”

Emma crossed her arms, defensive and more than a little ticked. Who was this guy to judge? Did he really think that if he had been the one hovering over Killian in Camelot, if he had been the one watching him bleed out, life sapping away, and listened as Killian fought with his last precious breaths to reassure, that he wouldn’t have done the same? “I think we’ve both made mistakes,” she pointed out coolly.

“He’s been fighting darkness his whole life, and you pushed him off that cliff,” Liam accused, that provoking air of superiority emanating from him.

“I was trying to save his life,” Emma said with finality, hoping he’d take the hint and back off.

“You were, and it was quite selfish of you. And it didn’t stop when you cursed him. No, he had died a hero’s death, saving your Storybrooke from the Dark Ones. He finally had the chance to move on, and here you are trying to take that from him.”

Did he even know that Killian had been physically imprisoned and tortured by Hades? “That isn’t fair. I’m down here risking everything to save him.”

“And is that really what he needs, or what you need?”

“Were you always this self-righteous?”

“When it comes to my brother, yes. When we defeat Hades, he’ll forgive himself, and have another chance to move on. When that happens, stop thinking about your own desires and let him go.” Breathing deeply, Liam said, more softly, “I do know why you really want him back so badly. And believe it or not, I understand, given the position you’re in. But these are hard truths you must hear.”

“I – What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

Biting her tongue, Emma sat on the end of her bed, reaching into her thoughts desperately to think of something to say. “You know?”

“If the condition of your house wasn’t obvious enough, the desperation on your face after we left the graveyard would have done the trick. You don’t strike me a woman easily rattled, and seeing your name on the headstone rattled you. But not because of your own safety, was it? You are not that difficult to read, Emma Swan.”

So the Jones men had a monopoly on figuring her out. That didn’t make Liam any less infuriating.

“I didn’t come here because I was pregnant. I came here because of Killian. I didn't even know about the baby until a couple of days ago.”

“Does Killian know?”

“No.”

“Nor should you tell him.”

“I really don’t think that’s your call to make,” Emma informed him, pushing her clenched hand against the mattress and wondering how upset Killian would be if she gave Liam a black eye or two.

“Please don’t misunderstand. I only want what’s best for Killian. You have an entire family that will support you once the baby comes, but Killian – he only has me. It’s why I do what I do. What I have always done.” His jaw tightened, and Emma thought she saw something – hurt, shame, she couldn’t be sure. “I need you to understand that."

“Listen, Liam. Killian isn’t your kid brother anymore. He’s grown up, and he makes his own decisions. Some have been bad, yeah, but a lot have been great. And he’s done it all on his own. You can’t run his life for him anymore, even if you’re just trying to help.”

“Rich, coming from the woman who took his life in her own hands.”

Emma had heard enough. Leaving the bed, she walked down the stairs without looking back.

Killian immediately suspended his hunt as Emma hustled down the steps from the bedroom, acting as if a nightmare was on her heels.

“Love, what is it?”

“I finished searching up there, and didn’t see it. I just want to hurry up and find this thing,” she said, more harshly than he would have expected. Certainly there was more than the book that bothering her, but he would pursue it later, when they weren’t surrounded by the others.

“Unfortunately, we aren’t having much more luck down here,” David told Emma, closing a cupboard door. “Snow, anything?”

Searching through Neal’s crib, Snow replied, “Nothing.” Picking up a baby blanket, she pressed it to her cheek and sighed softly. “But I am with Emma. We need to find it as fast as we can.”

Snow didn’t mean it as a condemnation of Killian, and likely hadn’t even thought of him in connection with her name on the headstone; but whether she blamed him or not, Killian knew the reality was that it was his fault she was here, separated from her son.

Guiltily averting his gaze, he found Liam watching him sympathetically. His brother knew, as always, precisely what he was thinking and why. Just as he had all those years ago, when Killian had tried to apologize over and over for losing their money to Silver’s crew.

“I don’t think it’s here,” Regina declared, rising from where she’d been checking under the bed. “Maybe Hades has it after all-”

Everyone stopped as the handle of the front door turned, each of them expecting the worst. But Henry was the one to enter, already remonstrating against them before he was completely inside.

“I can’t believe you guys left without me! I could have told you exactly where the book will be if you’d have just asked.”

Henry should not have been talking to his mothers that way – either of them – but the lad was undoubtedly stressed, and it may not have been Killian’s place to say anything.

Robin entered the loft soon after, seeming less than amused by the boy’s antics.

David asked his grandson, “How did you find that out?”

“I umm...ran into the Apprentice when I was out getting donuts.”

Of course you did, lad.

Henry went to the counter, rested his elbows on the surface, and continued. “He said the sorcerer’s mansion is down here. A bunch of his stuff is inside, magical stuff, like the Storybook. It’s locked with magic, though. The sheriff has the key.”

Emma perked up. “The sheriff as in, David’s brother James? He’d keep it in his office, right? Well, maybe we can get Graham to help. He will know how to get it. He’s still a deputy here.”

“That may be true, but I want in on this. I owe James some payback for that kiss. Maybe Graham can distract him, and David and I can grab it,” Snow suggested.

Who knew the princess had an appetite for revenge?

“Kiss? Is that what you were talking about earlier? Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Emma said. “At least we have a plan, which is more than we had this morning. Thanks, kid.”

Liam walked towards Killian. As he passed by Emma, Emma tensed, wary as a cabin boy about to receive a verbal lashing from a harsh captain.

Which was a ridiculous analogy; it was Liam, but even so, Killian found himself naturally stepping forward to safeguard her.

Liam grinned at him, and Killian stopped, almost laughing. His response had been habit, nothing more. He must have simply misread Emma’s reaction. She would never have cause to mistrust his brother.

“Right, then,” Liam said. “In the meanwhile, act casual. We don’t want Hades to suspect what we’re up to. Killian?” He nodded his head toward the loft exit, which had been left open. “Shall we?”

“I am with you, brother.”

Present Day

Storybrooke

“Okay, baby’s all buckled in safely,” Emma said, leaving the passenger door of the bug open so Killian could get in the front seat.

“Aye, she is. Though I still think a knot would hold better.”

“We’re not doing that,” Emma told him, then punctuated her point by poking him in the side with her finger.

Grunting in startled protest, Killian complained, “Swan, never prod a man when-”

“Oh, good, you’re still here!”

The both turned from the bug, confused by the happy shout. Killian’s crew had left Claire’s house shortly after Emma arrived, and in any case, it didn’t sound like any of them.

“Mom?” Emma said as Mary Margaret crossed the street and set her quiver and arrows on the hood of Emma’s vehicle. “What’s this,” she asked, gesturing at the weapons. “I thought you’d be at school.”

“Oh, they can find a substitute today. I got your group text about what happened a few minutes ago, and I told David that this time, I was going to be the one tagging along for the action. I did not get a year of peace just to have it ruined by some pixie with a grudge.”

“Technically we’re going after Blackbeard right now.”

“Fine, I will not have our happily ever after destroyed by a guy with a bad perm. Not only that, I haven’t even had a chance to see Killian since he came back!”

Pouncing on Killian, Mary Margaret kissed his cheek. “Welcome home, Hook. We missed you. What do you think if Adi? Isn’t she precious?”

“She’s quite something, your highness,” Killian stuttered. “It’s...pleasant to see you again as well.”

Emma didn’t mean to laugh at him, but he was so thunderstruck by Mary Margaret’s greeting it became a losing battle. The last time her pirate remembered seeing Snow, she was shooting arrows at him and Cora by Lake Nostos.

“Are you okay with the name? Emma picked it. She said she-”

“Hey, mom, I think we should do this later. So, did you drive? We need to get to the docks.”

“Well, aren’t you going to drop Adi off with David first?” Mary Margaret asked, gathering her weapons. “I’m sure it won’t be all that difficult to arrest Blackbeard, but even still...”

“No,” said Emma immediately. “No. Mom, she was almost – I could have lost her this morning. All because I left her. I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“Oh, but Emma, we’re prepared this time. Even if Mim did come after her again – and I doubt she will, since your text said Blackbeard was the one who took her – all you have to do is place a protection spell over the loft.”

Through the window of the bug, Emma could see Ariadne sucking on her fist, attempting to kick off the soft blanket Claire had insisted they keep. “It’s not the same if I'm not there to protect her.”

“Emma, things have been very calm here since Adi was born, so maybe you don’t understand. Please believe me, combat and children do not mix well. Do you think I’d put my son, David, and my own granddaughter in danger if I didn't think it would be safer for them to stay behind together?”

“Mom, she was kidnapped, and the only way I can be sure it doesn’t happen again is if she’s with me.”

“Sweetheart, I know! The same thing happened to me with Zelena. After she took him, there was a period of time I didn’t even want to give Neal to David. Eventually I had to realize that others are there to help. You’re not alone in this, Emma. We’re here for you.”

Emma drummed her fingers against her thigh. She still didn’t like it. “Killian, what do you think?”

“I think...” He, too, peered through the glass at their baby for a long time before he spoke again. “I think I don’t want her in sight of Blackbeard, ever again. And yet, I completely understand not wanting to let her go. I di-” Breaking off, he tried again. “I didn’t want to either, when I was carrying her to Her Grace’s dwelling this morning.”

Mary Margaret placed her hands over her heart, melting, and Emma willed her not to make an emotional scene.

“Ultimately you must make this decision, Swan. I support whatever you choose to do. You know best how to deal with magic, since you have it yourself. If you feel a spell is enough to protect her, we have time to leave her with your father. Blackbeard is going nowhere in a hurry; we left the ship in a state of disrepair. If, however, you want to take her with us, that is perfectly acceptable, but we will need to take extra precautions. Remember, leaving her with your father may put her in danger; but if she accompanies us, she definitely will be in the middle of a perilous situation.”

As she’d expected, he hadn’t told her what to do, but he was still talented at helping to calm her and clear her head.

“Okay. Let’s drop her off at the loft.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Killian was at the head of the group, Sorcerer’s mansion in view. He didn’t have any fond recollections of this bloody place in the real world, let alone here, but if it got Emma home...

“How could I have missed a house this size all those years in Storybrooke? And down here?” Graham, the deputy and Swan’s former – former something – wondered aloud.

“It’s kind of off the beaten path,” Emma pointed out, just before she stumbled over a rut in the ground. Graham caught her arm, lifting her upright again, and she nodded her gratitude.

From the little Killian had seen of their interactions, they seemed to have an easy camaraderie, and he could tell from just Emma’s body language that she trusted and felt comfortable around Graham, which for her was an exceedingly rare thing.

It made Killian glad, in a bittersweet sort of way. If there was one thing his love deserved, it was more people in her life whom she could trust.

But he was unmitigated in his jealousy. Silly, stupid, and extraneously inappropriate of him, given the more serious fact that Swan was now trapped down here because of him; but there it was, all the same.

“Okay,” said the deputy as he, Killian and the others crowded at the front of the mansion. “I have the key, courtesy of Snow and David. Maybe the rest of you should stand back while I unlock it, in case the magic in this house...disagrees with us.”

Liam held his hand out. “Perhaps you would allow me to do the honors, then? After all, I have been dead the longest.”

“You sure?” Graham asked, key hovering in the vicinity of the lock.

“Indeed.”

It was so like his brother to bear the responsibility. “You always were the noble one,” Killian said warmly, a grin sneaking its way onto his face.

They passed into the house without incident, Killian lifting a mass of cobwebs for Emma to avoid. Whatever secrets this place held, no being had disturbed them in quite some time, if ever.

“At least we seem to have the place to ourselves,” Robin said, arm bent back over his quiver as he warily scanned their surroundings. “Have I mentioned I hate spiders?”

“I thought you were almost always in the forest,” Emma commented, puzzled.

“So was the Sheriff of Nottingham. Doesn’t necessarily mean I wanted him there.”

Regina stopped the nonsense with a raised hand. “We’ll be sure to buy some cans of Raid when we get home, Robin, but right now we really need to start looking for that book.”

“Should we split up?” Liam asked, head tilted back as he examined the immensity of the mansion. “It would save time.”

Emma turned her shoulder on him and didn’t respond. So Killian hadn’t imagined her cold reaction at the loft earlier. What kind of trouble was she having with his brother?

“It sounds like a good plan to me,” Graham said, brushing a silky cobweb off of his brown leather jacket. “Divide into pairs, then?”

“Ah, I, ah, don’t see the need. This building is obviously abandoned. We can each take a room, and it will be done in half the time,” Liam said hastily.

Emma muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” Liam asked.

“I said, that’s fine,” she bit out. “Henry, you gotta stay here.”

Henry argued, and while Killian understood that the boy wanted to contribute, Emma was quite right in insisting that the Underworld was too dangerous for any heroics attempted by an overzealous youth.

Regina rallied to support Emma, and Henry finally acceded to his lookout assignment, albeit with something of a sulk.

After an hour or two of searching, Killian contemplated whether he should take a short reprieve and find his Swan. She wouldn’t behave that way around Liam without a good reason, and he meant to find out what it could be.

“I’ve found it!” Liam shouted from another wing of the mansion.

Closing the lid of the chest he had been emptying, Killian followed his brother’s voice. Emma and Robin were already ahead of him, and Regina and Graham soon followed.

The five of them eventually found Liam in the mansion’s library, flipping the pages of a bound volume. Worn, tan leather and gold lettering assured Killian that this was indeed the Storybook.

Placing the book flat, Liam pointed to the open manuscript. “There’s no mention of Hades, but there are some pages torn out.”

Regina said, “I’m not surprised. Back during the first curse, I tore my story out of the book so Henry wouldn’t know I was the Evil Queen.”

Killian hated the sense of defeat, but they had to be realistic about their chances. “Well, if Hades has done the same, we don't stand much chance of finding it.”

Emma wasn’t quite so easily dissuaded. “What do you think, Liam?” she questioned. “You found the book; was there any evidence it had been tampered with?”

“No. And until I find any, I’ll choose to have hope. The pages could have fallen out and still be in this house, and I for one won’t give up without trying to find them.”

Tucking the book under his arm, Liam strode from the room, drawing Robin and Graham with him in the wake of his determination.

Proud of his brother’s speech, as uplifting as any of Snow’s, Killian began to follow.

Behind him, though, he could hear Regina hissing, “I see what you mean about self righteous.”

She could only have been talking to Emma, and Killian felt his shoulders sag, forlorn and wounded. Had Emma been speaking ill of Liam behind his back?

Sidestepping him neatly, Regina left the library.

Emma lingered behind, agitated and hesitant.

“What’s wrong; aren’t you coming?” he cajoled. If she would just talk to him, perhaps they could put this misunderstanding behind them.

“Yeah,” was the short, unconvincing reply.

“No, wait.” They couldn’t go on like this; not while Emma was so unsettled. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. I know when something’s bothering you.” He gave an inviting, gentle smile, hoping she would open up.

At last, she relented. She spoke rapidly, as if afraid she would lose her nerve if she didn’t. “It’s Liam. I’ve had a bad feeling ever since we first met. And at first I thought it was just because he didn’t like me. But now I think he’s hiding something.”

He’d been aware of the tension between then, but he’d had no idea it was that bad. “That’s preposterous,” he blurted. “My brother wouldn't lie.”

“Maybe there’s stuff about him you don't know. I think he does know what his unfinished business here is; I am positive he was lying when he told us he doesn't!

“No, you’re wrong about him. I know who my brother is. I'm going to go help him find these pages.”

Present Day

Storybrooke

The worn, lived-in space belonging to Emma’s parents were unlike like any royal quarters Killian had ever imagined.

Ariadne against his shoulder, he followed Snow and Emma across the floorboards towards a counter and the same style of appliances he’d seen in the galley at Swan’s home.

“Emma, Snow, what are you doing back here? I thought you would have captured Blackbeard by now.”

And there was the prince again.

“We are leaving Adi here with you for the day,” Snow proclaimed, kissing his cheek. “Emma will place a protection spell around the loft. Call Emma if she gets hungry.”

David nodded, but was watching Emma. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

The prince understood his daughter’s heart far better than the mother did. Curious.

“I trust you,” Emma told him, hiding whatever reluctance she might have.

“All right. Hook?” David held his arms out to take the baby. “Give her here.”

Adi wiggled in Killian’s embrace, as if she knew she was being given away.

Not given away. He’d return for her.

Swan. Swan would return for her. “Take care of her, mate.”

“With my life.”

Emma and Snow began speaking to the prince of their strategic designs for arresting Blackbeard, and Killian drifted over to the wall, noticing a portrait that differed from the others.

A blonde girl, in her early teens, was on some sort of enormous mechanical contraption. It was circular and roofed, with an open space in between, and dotted with lights and mirrors. Several large animal figures were affixed to the ceiling and base by poles.

Most of the animals were horses, but the blonde girl, who he presumed was Emma, was sitting on a large orange tabby cat with a fish in its mouth.

The contraption was backlit by an enormous glass wall, divided into smaller panels.

Emma appeared joyous and free, the portrait taken mid-laughter.

“It’s called a carousel,” Swan explained, coming to stand beside him. Distantly, he could hear her parents still conversing with one another. “It’s a ride that goes around in a circle. This one was at the mall in Mankato. My foster family, they took me school shopping there one day, and I saw it. Before then, I had never ridden one. They could tell I wanted to, though. I pretended like I was too old and not interested, but they talked me into it.”

“So what happened? With them?” Surely if she’d stayed with them, her life would have taken a much different turn than meeting Bae in a stolen vessel.

“It didn’t...work out. Lily stole this picture from their house – among other things, but that’s neither here nor there – and kept it as a resource when she was trying to find and kill my real family. Long story. Anyway, she gave it back, my mom found it, and of course had to frame it and put it up.”

Killian still could not believe how lighthearted Emma seemed in the portrait. “They must not have been horrible people, those particular caretakers.”

“They weren’t. They were pretty great. And that was the worst part.”

“What do you mean?”

“I almost preferred the ones who were hard on me or indifferent. Because it was so much more painful to leave the ones who seemed like they cared.”

Emma pinched her lip with her teeth.

“Do you wish you hadn’t met them?” Do you wish you hadn’t met me?

She didn’t get a chance to tell him. David was shouting and running over to a vividly colored, fenced pen, which contained a toddler whom Killian could only assume was Swan’s sibling. “Neal, no! That’s daddy’s phone, how did you get that? Give it to me, son.”

Still holding Ariadne, David reached for the phone, and just as he was about to have it in hand, the little lad threw it against the wall with all the strength he had in his miniature body.

The screen of the device splintered, and the brightly lit screen went dark as it hit the floor.

It couldn’t have been deliberate; the boy was too young to have that level of coordination, and yet from the delighted expression on the child’s face, Killian could not help but doubt. Just a little.

A blood vessel popped out on David’s face. “Neal,” he said calmly. “That is not gentlemanly behavior. Gentlemen do not throw things.”

“David, he doesn’t know any better!”

“And that's exactly why it’s our responsibility to teach him, Snow,” responded the prince, and Killian could sense it was a familiar, ongoing disagreement between them.

“Mom!” Emma broke in. “Maybe we should be going?”

Her chin jutted out, Snow said, “Yes, you’re right.” Marching up to David, she kissed him firmly, lovingly. In spite of their differing opinions, their devotion to one another was palpable. “I love you, David. We’ll figure out what to do about your phone when I get home. Meanwhile, just use the landline.”

“Stay safe out there,” he replied tenderly. “I’ll hold down the fort here.”

After Emma enacted her protection spell, they were off.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

There had been no trace of the missing pages. After almost a full day of hunting, the group was coming close to admitting defeat.

Emma, needing space and desperate for some fresh air outside of the dusty mansion, stepped out into the night chill, pulling on her gray beanie and gloves. And here she’d thought hell would be hot.

A movement off to the side of the mansion, that of a dark figure in the middle of the shadows and calmness, grabbed her attention.

Emma walked lightly, not wanting to alert the shadow until she knew who or what it was.

Standing beside an old stone well, Liam was busy tossing something down into its depths. Paper sheets, by the looks of them.

“Oh, Killian.” She had wanted to be wrong. Liam had, by all accounts, been one of the only dependable, stable, good things in his life. And now that was about to be ruined. “Find anything out here?” she called.

Liam jumped, just perceptibly. But when he faced her, he had a warm grin. The baby would be lucky if it inherited that Jones smile; it was a pretty one, just like Killian’s; “Emma. I’m afraid a ship’s captain can only be cooped up for so long. I came to get some air. What brings you here?

“I came out here for the same reason,” Emma answered carefully, mulling over how to best handle with the situation. She couldn’t just throw out accusations. Liam would deny everything, and Killian would become defensive. So maybe a different approach was needed.

What, though?

Start with what you know about him.

He loved Killian. He loved him so much, probably just as much as Emma; and nobody who devoted his life to his brother the way Liam had could be all terrible.

“Hey, can I show you something?” She raised the chain of her ring, drawing it up slowly from underneath her jacket and then lifting it from her neck. “Here,” she said, offering it to him.

“Oh. It’s the ring I gave Killian,” Liam observed, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I noticed he wasn't wearing it.”

“Because he gave it to me.”

“Proposal?”

“No.” It had, however, been a declaration of love that was almost on par with one. “But do you know what he did say to me when he put it in my hand? That it belonged to a much better man than him.”

Ruefully, she added, “You’re his hero. He doesn't think you can do any wrong. Which is why I can’t figure out why you would lie to him.”

Liam started to glare, but the expression was knotted up with another emotion – worry.

“Emma? Liam? What’s going on? I’ve been looking everywhere for you two!” Killian called, jogging across the damp grass towards them.

“She thinks I lied to you,” Liam condemned. Emma was surprised he didn’t add a pointing finger.

Locking eyes with her pirate, Emma gave the truth. “He took the pages, Killian. I can prove it. Ask him to show you his hands. He’s been hiding them since I got here.” Liam had even refused to take the ring she had tried to give him.

Head tilted down, chin on his chest, Liam said, “Look, if it would help to clear things up, I’d be happy to.”

The guy couldn’t even bring himself to look at his brother while he lied. Emma could feel herself losing her temper.

“That won’t be necessary,” Killian said sadly. “I don’t need proof to see what’s really going on here.”

For a second, she thought he was on her side. A belief quickly shattered.

“Emma, can’t you admit this isn’t really about my brother?”

“What else would you think it was about?”

“Us.”

Liam wandered several yards away, showing more respect than he ever had since showing up at their home that morning.

“I’ve been trying to figure it out all day, Emma, why you are so set against Liam. I think I finally understand. You think that if you can prove he is a villain, that I will somehow feel like I was less of one. That you can convince me I am worth saving, and that we have a future together.”

“You agree with him?” she asked, disbelieving.

“Why bring me back if I should just move on? Emma, I cannot return with you. My fate isn't in Storybrooke. It should be determined here.”

Fighting the lump in her throat, Emma said shakily, “It doesn't have to be.” Recalling Regina’s words, she explained, “You just have to forgive yourself. Thing is, no matter how many times I, or anybody else tells you that, you have to do it yourself.”

With that, she started for the mansion. Honesty she could give him, but only he could take that final step.

As she walked away she heard him crying her name, once.

Present Day

Storybrooke

“Killian, can you call Graham and remind him to meet us at the docks? Oh, wait, you can’t. Sorry, I keep forgetting.” Emma had included Graham in the same group text that had summoned Mary Margaret, asking to meet at Claire’s, but so far her partner had not responded. “Mom, can you do it please?”
“I’d love to. If I call his cell, though, I will have to use your phone. I only have the station programmed in mine.”

Emma swerved the bug, avoiding a pothole. “Try the cell.”

“Where’s your phone?”

Keeping her focus on the road, Emma grappled with her jacket before finally producing her mobile. “There,” she said, reaching over the bug’s stick to her mother in the front seat.

Mary Margaret tapped the power button.

“Passcode is -”

“That’s all right, I remember it.”

Emma wasn’t sure if that fact disturbed her or not.

“Oh, Emma, I haven’t seen this picture of Adi before! How gorgeous! Will you send it to me? Look at those dimples; she’s smiling!”

“May I see?” Killian asked from the backseat, and Mary Margaret swiveled in her seat, unabashedly delighted.

“Mom! Graham?”

“Right. Sorry, Hook; I’m sure Emma will show you later.” Mary Margaret touched the screen a few times, then held the phone to her ear and listened.

“No answer,” she finally informed them. “I can try again.”

“Call the station instead,” she said, activating her turn signal as they came to an intersection. “Sometimes he likes to turn his cell off. You know how he is about that back to nature stuff.”

Except, he didn’t ever power down his electronics when he was working, and he always answered his messages. Graham was responsible like that.

“Nobody’s picking up there, either,” Mary Margaret said, this time sounding concerned. “That isn’t really like him, is it? Did he take the day off?”

“No, we agreed yesterday that until the fairy mess was fixed, we’d report in every day. And you’re right, it’s way out of character for him to ignore us like that, especially when we’re in a crisis.”

“So should we look for him at the station before going to the Jolly Roger?”

Emma considered, pressing her shoulders back against the seat as she drove. Maybe he was driving to meet them and didn’t hear his phone. Maybe he was in the restroom at the station and couldn’t answer. Maybe he was out of range of a tower.

But she knew that if Graham was in her position right now, he would go looking for her.

And Emma was worried.

“I have to check.” Cranking the wheel, she made an abrupt U-turn in the middle of the street, throwing Mary Margaret against her door, and Killian into the empty baby seat.

“Perhaps a warning could be in order the next time you do that?” Killian complained.

“Sorry, guys.”

When they arrived at the sheriff’s station, Graham’s car was parked in its usual spot, idling quietly. The vehicle was empty.

Turning it off, Emma pocketed the keys and headed inside, her mother and Killian right with her.

They arrived just in time to see one of the nuns, Heather the Red Fairy, running out of the office at full speed, like a rabbit startled out of a shrub.

“Hey, what are you -” Emma started to ask.

Sprinting around a desk, Heather ran for an open window and leapt through, wings extending as she became airborne, disappearing into the sky.

“What was that about?” Mary Margaret wondered.

“Check the office,” Killian said, already headed for the room. “She was doing something in there.”

In the office, a pair of boots were extending from behind the desk. A very familiar pair of boots. “No,” Emma whispered.

She shoved the rolling desk chair out of the way and scrambled around the corner, where she saw Graham, crumpled on the floor, eyes closed.

Just as he had been when Regina killed him. How was this happening again?

Falling to her knees, she put her hands on his shoulders. “Graham? Graham!”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“I’m sure he’ll be back, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, her typical positivity on display.

It had been hours since anyone had last seen Killian. After their...she didn’t want to call it a fight, because it hadn't been, not really...he and Liam had disappeared.

And Emma was becoming concerned.

“And if he isn’t, I’m gonna track him down, and he’s gonna have to do a lot of explaining,” David joked, opening a nutrition bar. Between Liam and the book, none of them had consumed a decent meal all day. Emma was pretty sure the only thing her son had eaten was the entirety of the half-dozen donuts he’d procured that morning. “We came a long way to get the guy, after all.”

“If he isn’t back in fifteen minutes, we should probably go looking for him,” said Regina, who seemed to be the only one taking Emma seriously. “I don’t think he’d just leave. He’s stuck around for worse.”

“Maybe he just needs some space!” Mary Margaret suggested, taking a bar of her own from the box. “Emma did say things were strained because of Liam. Sorry, honey,” she told Emma.

“But he said he was going to move on,” Emma mumbled. “He pretty much told me he made his choice.”

“Without saying goodbye?” Henry asked doubtfully.

The entire family lapsed into silence.

Then, Robin spoke. “He wouldn’t do that, Emma. You should have seen him when you were whisked away to Camelot in that cloud, when I tried to get between him and the dagger. That man wouldn’t leave without seeing you first.”

Unless he was afraid she’d try to convince him to stay. Unless the thought of saying goodbye was too painful.

“He’s probably...Well, he’s probably at the Underworld’s version of the Rabbit Hole, catching up with his brother.”

“Thanks, Robin,” Emma told him quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

Regina clapped her hands. “Okay, Henry, it’s really late. You should be getting some sleep.”

“Mom, it’s...” After consulting the clock on the wall, he made a relenting noise. “Midnight. Yeah, okay, I guess.”

David, finishing his snack, rubbed at an eye while throwing the wrapper away. “We should probably get back to the loft, too. Like Robin said, I’m sure Killian is fine.”

When they’d left and Henry had left for his bedroom, Regina looked Emma up and down, and proceeded to give her unfiltered opinion. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Few hours.” She’d run on less in the past.

“Well, go to bed. I’m going to go do a quick walk through town. Just to see if he’s around.”

“Not alone, Regina.”

“Hades left us alone the entire day. Whatever he’s scheming right now, it doesn’t involve attacking us outright. And are you insinuating that I’m not more powerful than anything I could run into down here?”

“Uh. is there an answer I can give that won’t result in you getting offended?” Who knew Regina would be such a mother hen about this whole pregnancy situation?

“Very funny. Just go lay down. Here, take the compact I gave Henry this morning. If I get in trouble, you can come do your savior thing.”

Reluctantly, Emma took the small mirror, still debating. If Killian was still out there, she wanted to find him and clear the air between them. If he had moved on...

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to know.

“Goodnight,” Regina said, and at last Emma headed for the stairs.

Emma had just climbed into bed and pulled the sheets around her when she heard knocking. “Come in.”

The overhead light flicked on to reveal Regina, hands twisting her gloves. “Hi, Emma.”

“That was fast,” Emma said nervously, lifting to an elbow. If Regina had returned so soon, it couldn’t be good news. “You weren’t even gone ten minutes. Did you find him?”

“I poofed around instead of walking. Emma, I don’t know how to tell you this...”

“Tell me what?”

“Remember how we noticed the clock tower changed when my father, Meg and Hercules moved on?”

Emma couldn’t even speak.

“Well, I saw the face when I was out searching. The hands changed. Somebody’s moved on. Looked like it was more than one person, too.”

He left. He had left her.

“I searched for a while longer, but I didn’t see Hook in any of the places he frequented back in Storybrooke, Emma. I’m very sorry. Now, I’m not saying he’s gone-”

“Thank you, Regina. I appreciate your help.”

Dropping her hands to her sides, Regina huffed. “Emma, don’t do this. I know it must be hurting, so why don’t we talk about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to go to sleep,” she said tonelessly. Right now, she was a surface, a wall, and nobody was going to get past that.

Not even Emma herself.

“Emma, you-”

“Please go, Regina. I need some time alone.”

Throwing her hands in the air, Regina sighed. “Well, fine. I tried. Goodnight, Emma. I’m sorry. No matter what’s happened, your family will be there for you."

Emma rolled on her side as the door closed, pressing her face into a pillow to hide herself away. The bedroom felt too large, as if the walls were expanding, escaping her.

She didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry. She was numb, as if all of her nerve endings had been seared by fire and cauterized.

She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.

When Emma next lifted her head, the digital alarm clock told her it was two in the morning. She thought maybe she needed to throw up, but she didn’t want to move. Easing onto her stomach, hoping to wait out her sickness, a sound from the floor below caught her attention.

It sounded like two people in an intense disagreement, who were trying very hard not to raise their voices. ‘Whisper fight’, one of her fellow foster kids, Danica, used to call it. It must have been Regina and Robin, hoping not to disturb her or Henry. Maybe Robin was upset that he was still separated from Roland and his new baby, or maybe they were arguing about Regina wanting to accompany Emma here in the first place. She wouldn’t blame him.

After another minute, she heard somebody coming upstairs. Regina again. This time, Emma would simply pretend to be asleep. The queen was trying to help, but Emma simply wasn’t prepared for another conversation.

Even behind closed eyes, she could tell when the light was activated again.

“Emma?”

She knew that voice. It was the voice that teased her, challenged her, praised her.

And, with every opportunity, expressed love for her.

“Emma, I’m here. I’m sorry I’m so late; something happened. I didn’t mean to-”

Sitting up, pillows flying everywhere, Emma confirmed what she was hearing.

Killian’s lean frame, all black leather and dark hair, swam in her tired vision as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“Oh, love. I’m so sorry. Regina told me she... Well, she’s none too happy with me right now, and she made sure I knew it. But Emma, how could I ever have left without knowing you were safe? Without saying goodbye?”

The sheets around Emma felt too tight. She should have run when she had the chance. Taken Henry and -

She still couldn’t feel anything. So what if Killian hadn’t left? He was still planning to. He-

“Where were you?” And she was proud that her voice was calm, proud she could show no emotion.

“Before we get to any of that, I want to apologize again. I’m sorry, Emma. You were right about Liam. He destroyed those pages because of a deal he made with Hades years ago.”

So the truth had come out. It always did. But she wished it didn’t have to be at the expense of the idealistic image Killian held of Liam in his head. Cautiously lowering some of her defenses, she asked, “Are you okay? Where is he?”

“He sacrificed himself. But his sacrifice helped a crew we once...sailed with. They finally moved on, thanks to him. That’s why the hands of the clock have moved, and that’s what Regina saw tonight,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Did Liam move on too?”

“He did. But he helped me see the truth before he went.”

Emma’s pulse skyrocketed. The truth about…what, exactly?

“I’m glad you came down here, Emma. Even if my brother did a terrible thing, he moved on to the better place. If he can, than perhaps I do deserve saving after all.”

Finally, he could see it. And if he realized it, then...“Does that mean when this is all over, you’re planning on coming home?”

“Yes. Everything Liam did, good and bad, was to ensure I had a future. What better way to honor his memory by living one? And the one I want is with you.”

Finally, that disconnect she’d made between her feelings and her body was restored, and Emma broke down, allowing tears to finally fall.

“Killian.”

She still felt sort of nauseous, and she didn’t want to move, but he came to her, gathering her to himself before pressing her back down into the mattress and kissing her. And, oh, this time he wasn’t holding back.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed against her skin. “I can’t imagine what you must have thought. All I can say is I promise to devote everything that I am to help get us home. Alive.”

“Mmm,” Emma said, shifting underneath him and placing a deterring hand on his chest. As much as she longed for this, a closeness they hadn’t had since Camelot, there was something she had to come clean about first.

He got the message, sitting back and swallowing worriedly. “I know I should have listened to you. If Liam said or did something to hurt you, I – well, before he left, he told me he wished he could apologize to you. He said you were a remarkable woman, and that he was wrong.”

“It’s not that,” she assured him, taking his hand. Somehow, she found it easier to look at his rings instead of his eyes. “Uh, did Liam tell you...Anything else about me?”

Rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of her hand, Killian pondered over what she was asking. “I don’t understand. Such as?”

Well, Liam had earned a gold star in her book for not spilling the beans before she had a chance. He must really have cared for his brother’s well-being, after all.

“He, um, he knew something about me that you didn’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

       Present Day

       “Is he breathing?” Killian asked, Snow edging past him to join her daughter by the fallen man’s side. “Don’t move him just yet, Emma,” he cautioned.

       “I know, I know,” Emma babbled. “Just…call for help. Mom, call for an ambulance.”

       “Does he have a pulse?” Snow questioned, almost pleading. “Emma?”

       “I’m checking, just call! I don’t care if we have to drag Whale here from the hospital, but I’m not letting this happen again,” she cried, eyes dark with a volatile, desperate freneticism. Pushing up the deputy’s sleeve, she pressed two of her fingers against his wrist. “C’mon, Graham,” she begged softly.

       Trapping a speaking device between her ear and shoulder, Snow watched, even while clearly and distinctly relating the emergency to whomever was the recipient of her call.

       Killian wished he could do something to assist, if only to erase that macabre terror on Swan’s face, but knew that the best thing he could do in the interim was to have his sword at the ready, in case that woman who’d quite literally flown out of the window decided to return.

       “He has a pulse!” Emma shouted suddenly, with a combination of a laugh and a sob. “He’s alive.”

       Her joy was infectious, and Killian felt a relieved sigh force its way through his teeth.

Even so, the little warning voice that had been uselessly silent when he had left Neverland with Liam was now callously reminding him that a mere pulse didn’t mean Graham had weathered the storm just yet.

       “Emma, is he breathing?” he asked soberly.

       “I was going to check that next,” Emma said breathlessly. “Mom, hand me a post-it note, please?”

       Snow peeled a small, yellow square of paper from a cube of the same color, and Emma held one end very still in front of the man’s nostrils.

       They waited, and then the thin sheet fluttered, weak but visible.

       “Breathing!” Snow shouted, and only then did Killian notice how morbidly silent the office had been.

       Dropping her forehead on Graham’s chest, Emma groaned weakly, too relived to properly articulate herself, crushing the yellow bit of paper in her trembling fist. The toes of her boots scraped against the floor.

       “Do we still want the ambulance?” Snow queried, covering the lower half of her talking machine with her palm.

       Emma nodded vigorously into the man’s shirt, then mumbled, “Ouch.”

       “What is it?” Killian asked.

       “Button.” Raising her face, Emma abashedly rubbed at a reddish mark on her forehead. “Anyway, yes, Mom. Don’t call off the ambulance. This is probably some spell or curse, but even so, he may be hurt. We’ll get him to the hospital, then we can ask the fairies to come and look him over.” Then, glaring, she added, “Maybe while they’re at it, they can tell us what their pal Heather has been up to the last few days.”

       Heather.

Although the name was unfamiliar to him, Killian was easily able to conclude who it belonged to. Now that more than just one of their own had gone rogue, the fairies had much to answer for. “And if they can’t wake him up, love?”

       “We will.” Snow said while watching her daughter, and her answer wasn’t any more for Killian’s sake than his question had been meant for Snow. “Breaking curses is what we do.”

       Killian wondered what it would be like to live with that type of unadulterated, unapologetic sense of hope and belief.

       The woman was either mad, or possessed extraordinary courage.

        “Let’s hope so,” Emma said.

       The Underworld

       One Year Ago

       In a space of a single tick of the clock, Killian felt as though he’d ascended past the heavens, touching the very stars with his hand. Limitless. Everything he’d ever…

       Until the truth snapped across him like a whip, and he fell back to the Underworld.  

       He had condemned not only his beloved to this punishment, but the one who needed his protection above all else.

       His own baby.

       Liam, his wonderful, flawed brother, had been so wrong. Killian was exactly what he had told Swan long ago. The worst human around.

       What would happen to Emma and the baby? Would they be entombed in this torturous limbo forever, this fate worse than death?

       Devastation progressed to horror, and he tried to retreat behind a studied expression.

Faltering, struggling, he floundered to find the correct words, something halfway fluent and decently supportive. But his mind was working against itself. She’s frightened. Say something, you monster. “You…You’re…But you’re trapped here. You ca- This means-”

        “I know.” She hugged her arms around middle. “Listen, I don’t want to tell anyone else about this yet. Regina and Liam figured it out on their own, but it’s best if we keep it between us right now. Down here, we don’t know who we can trust.” Her skin seemed very pale in the overhead light, almost as pale as she had been when she was the Dark One.

       Dark One.

       “When? The b-The baby?” he asked, disjointed in his haste, clutching her arm.

       “I’m sorry?” she asked, somehow patient with his rambling. 

       “When did – How far along is the baby?”

       “I have no idea. We won’t know for sure until I can get to a doctor. I mean, obviously, it’s had to be at least since-”

       “Camelot,” Killian finished. “Or some time before then.” He pressed his fingertips into his eyelids, willing himself to hold together.

So.

All those appalling things he said to her, all those things he did to her when he was a Dark One, that whole time she was with child.

From the moment he realized how deeply he felt about her, in Neverland, the only thing he’d wanted was to help take away all the misery she’d suffered and bring happiness to her life.

Fantastic job he’d done. He was already a worse father than his own. At least Brennan had left him alive.

 “Yes,” Emma was agreeing with him. “So probably over a month. I dunno.” Crossing her knees, she pulled a pillow onto her lap and started picking at its case aimlessly.

       Shuffling closer, Killian caressed the ends of her hair, and asked, “Do you …Swan, is this something you wanted?” Her impending answer would possibly be the most important thing he would wait for in his life.

        “I mean, it wasn’t exactly something I was expecting. The thought of more kids just, I don’t know, kind of had a big taped-off section labeled ‘future’ in my head, you know?” Lifting her head, causing a sheet of blonde hair to fall over her shoulder, she lifted the corners of her lips. “But now that it’s happened…yeah. I was scared at first, but yeah. I really, really want this.”

       And because knowing Emma was like recognizing his own face in the mirror, he could sense immediately she was telling the truth. He was both breathless and a bit in awe of her strength.

“I just wish…I just wish it had happened at a different time in our lives. That’s all. What about you? How do you feel about this?” Emma ventured, now crushing the pillow nervously with her hands.

       “I wanted…” He’d wanted innumerable things with her. For her. “Emma right now, it doesn’t matter. I just want to get you out of here.”

        “Killian, please,” she said tightly. “You can -You can be honest. It’s okay.”

       Swan, his poor, darling, cherished Swan, believed he didn’t want the baby. As if that were possible. “Well, it isn’t how I pictured it,” he began.

       “But you pictured it?” she asked slowly.

       “Emma. If this had happened two months ago I would have fallen to my knees and thanked my lucky stars.” He sighed softly. “As things are now, though, I’ve destroyed the baby’s future. And yours.”

       “As things are now, we have a future. Just like you said. We talked about this, remember? Killian, we could go back and forth forever about who’s to blame, all the way back to Nimue and the beginning of the Dark One curse, but right now…”

She was wrong – wrong – but right now was not the time for deliberating over his own shame. Right now, Emma and the baby took all precedence. The last thing he could do was push her away again. Killian was the was the only person she’d freely confided in; Right now, he was the person she had chosen to rely on, inadequate though he might be.

 He would bury his guilt into the most secret and rarely visited parts of his soul, and hope to the gods it wouldn’t surface before this was over. At least, not in front of her.

So he smiled, took the pillow from her lap, tossed it across the bed, and drew her to him, lying them down amid the nest of covers. “It’s going to be fine, love. You and the baby will escape here. I swear it,” Killian said, running his hand up and down her back. He could feel her muscles relax. “You-We should get some rest.”

“Yeah, but there’s a lot more we should talk about.” Contradicting her words, she pressed closer, resting her head on his shoulder and shutting her eyes. “Right?””

“Tomorrow, Emma. Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She wrapped an arm around his middle.

“Emma?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you. And our child.”

“I know.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

       “So, what’s wrong with him? Whale gave him a clean bill of health. This is almost exactly what happened to Henry with the turnover. Is it a curse?”

       Tapping her wand against the inside of her folded arm, Mother Superior hummed thoughtfully. “It’s difficult to be certain. Without more testing and research, I cannot say for sure.”

       “Well, what’s your best guess, then?” Emma asked testily. “Graham might not stay stable for very long. Henry flatlined, remember? You were there! Who knows how much time Graham has?”

       She knew she had been too aggressive when Mary Margaret, wrapping light fingers around her forearm, chastised her mildly. “Emma!”

       “Sorry,” Emma huffed, forcing herself to stand down. Tunnel vision was a fault of hers, particularly when someone she cared about was in danger.

       Graham, hooked up to machines and monitors, looked so vulnerable and boyish. She remembered how kind he’d been over the last year, filling in for her shifts when she was exhausted from Ariadne being awake all night, and waiting on her hand and foot in the station when she was enormously pregnant and aching.

       Yeah, she wasn’t letting him succumb to some curse.

       Emma felt an arm slip around her waist, and Killian whispered, “Easy, Swan,” near her ear. She leaned into him, and his hand settled on her hip.

       Diplomatically, Mother Superior accepted Emma’s apology and returned to Graham’s bedside, peering down at him as though he was a jigsaw she couldn’t quite solve. “Well, as I said, I will continue to try and get to the root of the problem. However, I am not sure how many magical effects Dr. Whale would approve to be brought into the hospital. Maybe I should move him to the convent, or bring more sisters to assist me.”

       “Yeah, about that,” Emma said, tensing against Killian’s shoulder. “I don’t think we should bring anyone else into this. Not when we don’t know what is going on.”

       “You mean because of what Purple, and now Red, have done, you’re hesitant to trust the rest of the fairies,” surmised Blue, nonjudgmentally.

       “No, that’s not…I guess I don’t know, exactly,” Emma admitted.

       “I do,” Killian said, directly to Blue. Letting go of Emma, he jabbed a finger in the fairy’s direction. “You, Lass, seemed very unsurprised when we mentioned the circumstances of the attack on Graham.”

This visibly perturbed Mother Superior, and Emma quickly hurried to smooth things over before it could escalate. “What I mean is, what’s going on with Heather? Has she ever done or said anything that would have made you believe she would want to curse Graham?”

        “Never. On the contrary. she has always been obliging, considerate, and dedicated. She has been that way ever since hearing the account of her predecessor. She didn’t want to repeat any of her mistakes.”

       Emma and Mary Margaret shared a look. “Predecessor?”

       “She replaced Tiger Lily.”

       “Tiger Lily…is…a…fairy?” Emma asked, drawing out each word, dearly hoping that by the time she was finished saying it, it might make sense.

       “No, not anymore,” Blue said sensibly. “Not after her fairy godmother debacle.”

       “Tiger never mentioned that,” Killian reminisced. “Maybe she was too angry after what happened at Skull Rock. Still, it’s-”

       “Wait, you knew Tiger Lily?” Mary Margaret asked, moving out of the way of a nurse who had entered the room to do a routine check on Graham. “From Neverland? We never saw her there when we were rescuing Henry.”

       “She was something of a loner. Now that I think about it, though, I am surprised she did not ever seek out Lady Bell, when their experiences were so similar.”

       “Guys? Still talking about Heather, here,” Emma interrupted. “So, Mother Superior, if you think it’s not like her to do this, what are the alternatives? Is she being coerced? Think it’s possible Mim took her heart?”

       “Anything is possible, Emma,” Blue allowed. “In this case, though, I think that no matter the truth, we must prepare for more attacks.”

       “But why target Graham?” Emma asked with frustration. She hated having more questions than answers. “Is he a random choice? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or did he have a lead we didn’t know about? Maybe he was onto something.”

       Killian grimaced. “What if he wasn’t even her target? What if she came to the station for you, Swan, or the prince, and encountered the unfortunate deputy instead?”

       “Regardless of motives, and until we know for sure, we’re going to have to have somebody stand guard here at the room,” Mary Margaret said, then jumped back, exasperated, as the nurse brushed past her again, leaving to continue his rounds. “Hook, I think it should be you. Emma and I know the town better, so-”

       “Where Emma goes, I go,” Killian said immediately. “I’m not staying here, especially not with my ship being held hostage by Blackbeard.”

       Mary Margaret lifted her gaze heavenward, as if seeking forbearance.  “Then who can we ask to keep watch? Regina? Robin? Zelena?”

       “The kids are still sick,” Emma said, jiggling her phone in hand thoughtfully, “but they might be willing to work short shifts.”

       As Emma started search her contacts, the beeping of Graham’s monitor a rhythm to the action, she paused, thumb hovering. Stealing another look at the comatose man, who, over the last year, had become one of her dearest friends and confidants, she realized there was another person who would be willing to help. Someone who Emma trusted to put her whole heart into protecting him, and powerful enough to make even the strongest magic user pause.

       “Wait. I have another idea.”

       Scrolling up, Emma found the name she was looking for.

       After a few rings, she heard, “Hello?”

       “Hey, Lily, it’s Emma. I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

       One Year Ago

       The Underworld

Hand in hand, Emma and Killian walked downstairs to find the adults of their family already waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” Mary Margaret chirped, pouring herself coffee and setting the carafe on the counter. “Glad to see you’re back, Killian. We were worried about you last night.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Killian replied apologetically. “It shan’t happen again.”

“It better not,” David said, sounding like he was only half-joking.

Regina didn’t say anything, but met Emma’s eyes over Mary Margaret’s head, questioningly glancing at Killian before inclining her head to Emma.

Quickly, too fast for her parents or Robin to catch on, Emma dipped her chin in confirmation. “Yeah, I told him.”

       Regina gave a small, approving nod, seeming pleased.

       “What are we doing?” Emma asked as she and Killian joined them at the table. The storybook was in the center of the group, like the talisman in some weird ritual.

       Flipping through the pages, Regina sighed. “Just hoping against hope to find some clue. But it looks like Liam was pretty thorough.”

“On behalf of my brother, I am sorry,” Killian said, pinning a stare at the tabletop, unable to look at any of them.

Emma rubbed his back with one hand, and using the other, rotated the book to face her. Skimming through its contents, she muttered, “Maybe there's something else in there that can help us. It’s pretty much magic all on its own. If anyone find it, it’s Henry. Where is he?”

David crunched the last of his cereal. “Upstairs. He’s still out of sorts.”

       Raking fingers through her hair, Regina scowled. “I’ve tried talking to him. Multiple times. I don’t know what else to do.”

Letting his spoon clatter into his empty bowl, David pushed back his chair. “Why don’t I give it a try? Maybe he’ll talk to his grandfather.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Emma said, and David gave her the goofy, delighted smile that was exclusive to moments he could support his daughter.

   Suddenly, Emma was confident that whatever speech David gave to Henry, it would be more than enough to help him express whatever troubles he was currently experiencing.

Then, they could all help her son.

       “Are hungry, Emma? Can I make you something?” Killian asked, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Eggs, or hash? Toast?”

       “Thanks, but I don’t know if we have time for that,” she replied absently. “We need to figure out how this book can help us. I’ll probably just have some of that cereal David was eating.”

       Killian made a face, never one to hide his opinions on ‘rubbish’ sugary meals. But nevertheless, he obediently rose and made for the cupboards for a bowl. “Whatever you desire, love.”

       “Oh, for god’s sake, just let the pirate cook for you, Emma,” Regina huffed, adding an eyeroll for extra effect. “While you’re at it, Hook, I’ll take an omelet, egg whites only.”

       “Oh, will you, Your Majesty?” Killian asked sardonically. “Glad to be of service. Can I get you anything else to go with that?”

       “Calm down. Would a ‘please’ make you happy?”

       Mary Margaret tugged at the cuffs of her cardigan like they were gauntlets, her inner schoolteacher coating her tone. “Hook, Regina, this isn’t the time for this.”

       Robin, who probably knew best of all of them the value of a cohesive team, excused himself from the table and joined Killian by the refrigerator. “Well, I’m still learning how these cooking machines work, but what do you say I give you a h- Er, may I assist, Captain?”

       “Aye. Thank you,” Killian said more calmly, opening a drawer and taking out a spatula. “Emma, not to worry; I’ll get you that cereal first.”

       Emma’s stomach growled, making her choice for her. “Well, actually, if you’re already getting the pans and stuff out for omelets…Just make sure it’s not runny at all.” She vaguely recalled reading about various food warnings in the pregnancy book she’d read in prison.

       Grinning, he asked, “What kind of cheese, love?”

       By the time everyone at the table had been served plates of hot, delicious breakfast, David was back, Henry in tow.

       “Hey, everyone,” Henry said, dropping into an empty chair. “First of all, I want to say sorry for acting so weird and ignoring everyone the last couple days. There’s something I didn’t tell you, and it tried to fix it myself, but it didn’t work.”

       Emma set down her fork, Henry’s words stabbing her heart. He could only have learned that from her, and what kind of example was that?

       “Henry,” she said gently, “you can tell us anything. You know that, right?”

Slouching in his seat, Henry mumbled, “Don’t freak out, but after Hook got back last night, I snuck out. I heard him talking with Mom downstairs.” Pausing, he glanced at Regina. “I figured it was a good enough distraction, and climbed out the window when he came upstairs.”

“Why!” Regina cried, aghast. “Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger-”

Robin touched her arm lightly. “Let’s just…hear him out, shall we?”

Though Emma wasn’t any more pleased with Henry’s confession than Regina had been, she feared that scolding him before letting him finish his story would only make him less likely to approach them in the future.

“I was looking for the pen. I found it in the mansion.”

Emma’s initial, ridiculous, stress-induced thought was, All of this for a damn Sharpie? Then, she realized what he meant. “The Author’s pen? But you destroyed it,” she said, picking up her fork and using the utensil to shovel up some of her omelet, which was starting to gel. Better to eat than let it go to waste, especially now that she was experiencing a rare moment of food tolerance.

“I know, but that just brought it here.”

“Why do you need it so badly, Henry?” Mary Margaret asked, sipping at her coffee, trying to hide her concern behind the rim of the mug and fooling nobody.

“It all started when Robin and I were searching your office for the maps,” Henry sighed. “Cruella was there, and she wanted me to write her back to life. The apprentice told me where the pen was. But I didn’t meet him in Granny’s like I told you. I met him when Cruella and I were looking for the pen. She bought me the donuts as a cover story later. I guess I thought I could double-cross her when I found it, and do something to be useful for once.”

Regina slammed her fist on the table hard enough to rattle the surface. “If that two-tone skunk thinks she can keep tormenting our son, she is going to be begging us to kill her again by the time I’m through with her.”

“Henry, why didn’t you just tell us right away?” Emma asked, to keep herself from agreeing with Regina.

“Because I have all this power, and I can’t even help you, mom! Or Hook, or anybody down here who can’t get out. I’m tired of it.”

Emma felt her eyes misting. For her son, her boy, for his youth and childhood. He should not be burdened with this type of responsibility. He should have been playing video games with friends or going to the movie theater or reading comics or daydreaming in a classroom, not expecting himself to save his family from hell. “I understand that, I do, but that’s not the way to go about it,” Emma said, extending her arm and holding her son’s shoulder.

“I know, which is why I decided to tell you the truth now. I finally understand what the apprentice meant. I’m gonna write the stories the way they are, and I will start with Hades. If I can recreate his story with the pen, we might be able to find out what was on those pages that we’re missing.”

“Hades went to a lot of trouble to keep that story from us,” Regina pointed out, but she was beaming with pride for Henry.

“Which makes me wonder, what is he trying to hide?” David asked, and nobody had an answer.

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Do you think it’s a sleeping curse? ‘Cause I know what a sleeping curse looks like, and it sure seems like it is,” Princess Snow said as Swan ushered them around the back of her colossal house toward a durable storage shed.

Their expedition had led them from the hospital to the convent in a quest to find a personal article of the Red Fairy’s, with the goal of initiating a tracking spell; and now, trekking through Swan’s backyard for magic ingredients, Snow was talking about the deputy as though they weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I hope not,” Emma said grimly, halting before the closed doors of the shed. “We’d have quite a time figuring out how to wake him.”

“Maybe you could try,” Snow said as Swan took out her keys and sorted through them to find the correct one.

“Try what?” she asked, ignoring or not truly heeding what her mother was implying.

“You know. Kissing him.”

Killian felt something twist in his gut, and his careless, insolent pirate persona broke form as his back went stiff.

Holding the padlock in one hand and her keys in the other, Emma stared at her mother in shock. “Mom, I’d do anything to help Graham, but it wouldn’t work. You of all people know I can’t break a curse with someone who isn’t my true love.”

“I know that, Emma. All I meant was, try to remember when you saved Henry from the turnover. And when Elsa helped you settle your magic. It doesn’t have to be romantic.”

Killian, knowing he was glowering inwardly and grappling to keep it from being displayed on his face, didn't notice Snow observing him with intense curiosity.

 Wrenching the key inside the lock, Swan caught her lower lip in her mouth and blinked swiftly as she lifted the padlock away from the door. Killian, as much as he was better learning to read her, knew she was frustrated – though whether at herself, at her mother, or at the fact that Graham was in danger to begin with, he could not say. “Let’s start with this locater spell. You still have Heather’s camera?”

“Thank goodness she had a hobby,” Snow said, capturing the object that was hanging by a strap around her neck, and giving it a vigorous shake. “The sisters said this was her most valued possession. With any luck, it will lead us right to her.”

       ‘Cameras’, as Killian recalled, were the portrait-takers. At first, he had thought only the cell phones could take portraits, but Heather’s machine had a lens affixed on its front that reminded him of a retracted telescope.

“Yeah, first I have to get the spell ready,” Emma said, shouldering open the doors. “I’ll need some time.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Days passed, and with Hades making no move, Henry was free to write with his magic pen and record things in the book.

Instead of working on Hades’ story, though, every attempt produced some mundane commentary on what was happening in the Underworld.

 Once, it was an illustrated picture of Mary Margaret and David having breakfast at the diner. Then he recorded Robin and Regina, privately discussing his and Zelena's newborn.

“I can't help it!” Henry had protested, slamming the book shut. “I lose track of what's happening, and the next thing I know, it’s written. If I could write about Hades, believe me, I would.”

Emma and Regina had been quick to soothe him, but Emma was growing concerned that he would end up inadvertently revealing her secret.

Killian, clearly thinking the same thing, said, “Perhaps you should take a break, my boy.”

But Henry refused, doggedly putting everything he had into his work.

One night, when Emma and Killian were getting ready for bed, Henry entered their room after knocking, book against his chest.

“You guys will never believe it. I wrote about Grandma. Look!”

 Seated at the end of the bed, braiding her hair loosely, Emma patted the spot beside her. “Yeah? Mary Margaret, or Belle?” she asked, and maybe she was an awful mother to admit it, but right then, she didn't really care either way as long as her pregnancy was still hidden.

“Neither. Check it out.”

Opening the book on his lap, Henry pointed to a picture of a woman with a mass of dark hair. The illustration was captioned, Milah wondered when she would meet her grandson.

Killian, peering over Emma’s shoulder, breathed sharply.

“Hook, my story says she helped you escape Hades. How come you didn't tell us?” Henry wondered – not accusingly, just naturally curious.

Killian, momentarily at a loss for words, ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head before saying anything. “Henry, lad, would you be willing to give your mother and me a minute?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, lifting himself off the bed and leaving the book open next to Emma, “but when can I meet my grandma? Where is she?”

“We will let you know soon,” Killian  promised, walking him to the door with his hand on his shoulder. “I assure you, I'll answer any questions you have. Just not yet.”

“All right,” Henry said dubiously. “If you're sure everything's okay…”

“It is,” Killian told him without hesitation. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Sure,” Henry said. “Later.” He carefully closed the door behind him.

Lifting the book, Emma took a closer look at Milah. She wasn't sure what she'd expected; Killian had showed her Milah’s self portrait once, and though it had been well drawn, there had been no way to tell how accurate it was.

This picture now proved that drawing to be quite like its subject. Milah was an attractive woman, with startlingly gray eyes, like the sun just behind a cloud. The shape of her face reminded Emma of Neal, though her skin was paler. Ironically, something about the determined set of her jaw made her think of Belle.

 “Emma?”

“She's very pretty,” Emma said, handing him the book.

“Aye, that she is.”

They both paused, then began talking at the same time.

“I remember you mentioned she-”

“I was going to talk to you ab-”

They both stopped, chuckling awkwardly. “Go ahead, love,” Killian offered.

“So, yeah, I remembered you mentioning her being down here when we were talking to Liam in the kitchen,” Emma started, crossing her legs.

“Indeed.” Killian lowered himself to sit beside her. “In fact, right before he arrived, I was going to tell you about her presence here. Obviously with the news of…” He lowered his voice. “With everything else, my attention was diverted, and I apologize for that. However, that is only part of the reason I haven't brought her up.”

“Does it have something to do with this?” Emma asked, pointing to the words captioning the illustration.

Killian nodded unhappily. “Yes. She asked me if she could meet Henry. I told her it would be up to you, ultimately, but now I do not know if it is the wisest course to even consider it.”

“Why? Don't you trust her?”

“The Milah I know? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. The woman who has spent hundreds of years down here, under the sway of Hades? I'm not sure; at least not enough to put you and Henry at risk. And I've been fooled by enough glamour spells to not take things at face value anymore. Who can be sure this woman is really her?”

“Liam did say something about her being Hades’ ally,” Emma mused. “What's the deal there?”

“I have no idea. All I know is he's given her the best of what this place has to offer, and there must be a reason for it.”

The book slid off Emma’s lap, forgotten, as realization hit her. “You were testing her. You've been waiting to see what she'll do.”

She could see uncertainty in his eyes, warring between what he wanted to believe and what he thought he had to face. “That’s…You’re right. The night Liam moved on, Hades was there. Somehow, my brother’s escape…weakened Hades. I don’t know how, but Hades was enraged. I thought afterwards he might try to send Milah as a way to infiltrate our group. So, I haven’t gone back to her since. That way, if she showed up, demanding access to Henry or any kind of information, I would know we couldn’t trust her. But so far…”

“She hasn’t pushed,” Emma finished his thought, defending the woman.

Though he’d phrased his plan somewhat benignly, it practice, it was a fairly calculating and coldly subtle move on his part. She had done similar things to entrap her bounties. “So maybe we can trust her. We could use her help. If she’s been here a while, she might know things about this place that we or even Graham doesn’t.”

Bending over, he picked up the book from the floor, opening the page to Milah’s picture and gazing at it for what seemed like an eternity, inscrutable. “And look how well that turned out when I trusted Liam. If we had those missing pages, you and your family might have been able to leave by now. Maybe it’s not with the risk.”

“Killian, come on. Now you’re just being paranoid,” she said, more lightly than she truly felt. Then it hit her how much he had been through in the last few months: Had his heart stolen by his mortal enemy, watched the woman he loved become the Dark One, faced the darkness himself, was killed three times, tortured mercilessly in the afterlife, saw his boyhood hero fallen from grace, and to top it off, learned his family and baby were stuck in the Underworld.

Maybe this was his breaking point.

“I suppose,” he said softly, and the longer he circled around the topic, the more she wondered if any of this was really about Milah at all. Then, closing the book, he cheered, or pretended to. “Well love, if you think she’s proven herself, then I trust your instincts. Should you want to meet her, let me know, and I will contact her.”

“Okay. Set it up tomorrow,” Emma said, resting her head on his shoulder and wishing she could peer into his mind and see what he was really thinking. He didn't really blame himself for Liam, did he?

“I shall.” He leaned his cheek against her hair. After a few seconds, he asked, “Love, where do you want the baby's room to be? I mean back home.”

Grinning against him, she felt some of her tension melt away; tension she hadn't even known was building up. “There's a space up here-I mean in our real house-that can be converted to a room. I don't know if we need that right away, though. That kind of thing costs money, and babies are really expensive. If we need to, we can keep the crib in our room until the baby is big enough for a toddler bed.”

“That isn't necessary. There is still plenty of gold waiting on the Jolly. Enough to keep you and the baby set for two lifetimes. The baby shall have a proper nursery.”

“Wait, wait.” She slid back, just far enough that she could face him. “What do you mean, ‘You and the baby’? Don't you mean ‘us’?”

“I thought that was implied,” he said with a short laugh. “I merely meant that what is mine belongs to you, Swan. And the child, and Henry, who ought to go to university. It shall even be for your mother and brother, though I may draw the line at Dave.”

If it wasn't so painfully obvious he was deflecting, she might have laughed. She knew he wanted to come back.

So why was he acting so resigned?

“Please, don’t lose hope,” she thought.

Storybrooke

6 months ago

“Emma, guess what!” Mary Margaret sang out as she bounced into the entryway after letting herself inside.

“You learned the key I gave you comes with boundaries?” Emma grumbled to herself, swaying over to the stove before the scrambled eggs could burn, distended belly leading her way.

Henry, hearing the comment, shot orange juice out of his nose as he snorted. Another thing she would have to clean up before hustling Henry onto the bus and then rushing to the station.

“What did you say, Emma?” Her mother asked pleasantly, stepping out of her shoes, and Emma immediately felt terrible. It wasn't Mary Margaret's fault she was hot, swollen and irritable.

“Nothing, mom. Henry, clear some plate space for these eggs, they're ready.”

Wiping at his nose with a napkin, Henry moved his toast. “Thanks for making these for me, mom. They look great.”

“They better be. I'm going to be late because of them,” Emma thought, and winced. She was really giving Zelena a run for her money on the title of Wicked Witch this morning. “Hope you like them, kid. Just don't take a lot of time to savor them, ‘cause we really gotta get going.” Cramming a chunk of peanut butter toast in her mouth, she turned to her mother, who was busily pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Mom, wushup?” Emma asked her as she chewed.

“I called the radio station and won two tickets to the new Avengers movie at the theater tonight!”

Emma opened the cupboard below the sink and tried to lower herself over her basketball of a stomach to reach the disinfectant. Panting, struggling, and hoping she didn't fall on her butt, she said, “That's great, mom!”

“Let me, Emma,” Mary Margaret offered, swooping in for the bottle. “There you are.”

Gathering a paper towel from the roll, Emma sprayed the solution at Henry's mess. “Hey!” he complained, lifting his plate away from the chemical vengeance of her cleaning.

“So you need me to babysit Neal?” Emma asked mindlessly, wiping the table with a thoroughness that would have met Granny’s approval. She was tired just thinking about it.

“What? No, not at all! I was going to give them to you. I want you to ask Graham to go with you.”

Henry, wise enough to sense trouble brewing, dropped his plate to the table with a clang. “I’m, uh, I’m just going to go catch the bus on my own, Mom. Right now. Bye. Good to see you, Grandma.”

       Even after he’d rushed out of the house, Emma was still standing stunned, towel and cleaner hanging limp in her hands. “You want me to what, Mom?”

“I want you to take Graham, go out, and enjoy yourself for the first time in months. You’ve had such a hard time, Emma, and I just want you to smile.”

She scoffed, and if she sounded a bit hysterical, she wouldn’t have blamed herself. “I hardly think Graham is going to want to date a woman who is going on eight months pregnant.”

“You sure about that?”

No, she wasn’t sure, and that might have been the worst part of all.

Her bad mood took hold, and she slammed the bottle of cleaner onto the table so hard, the nozzle popped off. “Thank you for the offer, but I am not going to the movies with Graham,” she ground out. “I have to get to work.”

“Emma…I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret said, suddenly seeming very small. “I was just trying – I only wanted-”

The baby’s hand or foot pressed into Emma’s stomach, disrupting her turbulent thoughts. Maybe she wasn’t being fair to Mary Margaret. She didn’t know Killian had been Emma’s true love; how would she? Emma hadn’t told her.

“Mom? I’m sorry for that. I overreacted. It’s only…It’s only been about six months. I appreciate the thought, but I’m just not ready.” She mustered a weak smile. “Why don’t you and I go to the movie together? It would be fun.”

“I’d love to.” Walking towards Emma, Mary Margaret reached out with her hands and cupped Emma’s face. Placing a kiss on her forehead, she proceeded to hold her as snugly as she could, almost rocking her from side to side. “Would you like to talk about him? You never have, you know. Maybe we never gave you the chance. But it might help you come to terms with…I’ll…I’ll listen.”

Emma felt her chin quiver. Even after all these months, she could barely think about Killian, much less talk about him. “Mom, thank you, but I really should be getting to work.”

“Oh, of course. I understand.”

“Could you- Would you just hug me for a minute longer, though?” she whispered.

Mary Margaret’s hand reached up to stroke her hair. “Of course, baby. Always..”

Storybrooke

Present Day

Emma hadn’t thought about that moment since it had happened. Her mother’s question about kissing Graham, however, brought it back with clarity.

Was she really trying to insinuate Emma and Graham shared something deeper than they really did, while Killian was standing right there?

Or, given that Mary Margaret’s eyes had immediately cut to Killian with a sly look after making her suggestion, then proceeded to excuse herself to use the bathroom in the house, conveniently leaving them alone in the shed, did she have another angle?

If her intent was the latter, it was working.

Since Mary Margaret had left, he’d been blatantly flirting with her, giving her ingredients she called for with a wink or brush of his shoulder, letting his hand linger on hers longer than necessary, and generally invading her space whenever possible.

It was the first time since he’d returned that he genuinely seemed to want her, and it was causing some distraction.

To say the least.

“Crap!” she muttered, after measuring incorrectly for the second time.

“Difficulties, darling?” Killian asked, the model of innocence even while he brushed her elbow with his thumb.

She whirled, not sure whether she intended to scold him or kiss him, and found he was standing almost directly behind her. Now, facing him, she found herself pinned between a pirate and the workbench.

A little breathless, she said, “You, mister, are the trouble.”

“Is that so?” he sang out, gaze flitting down to her lips expectantly. “Perhaps you just need to concentrate better.”

Nope. If he wanted to kiss her again, he was going to have to initiate it himself. Rediscovering his love for her was what she wanted, but he needed to make at least some of those choices on his own.

She tilted her chin up invitingly, but made no other move.

Slowly, eyes not leaving hers until the last second, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

It was surprisingly tender at first, and gradually he coaxed her into a deeper kiss, to which she eagerly responded. Not wanting to discourage him, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer, skin warming in every place their bodies touched.

       When he at last ended the kiss, he left his arms around her, as if not wanting to fully break contact. “I apologize, Emma,” he said, words at odds with his actions. “I should not have done that.”

“Why not?”

“I told Mr. Starkey days ago that as long as I was unsure of whether your story was true, I would not take advantage of you, and I broke that oath.”

Heavy-hearted, she said, “I thought you were beginning to believe it.”

“Maybe I do…” he said, so quietly she hardly heard him. “But how can I be certain? This isn't quite the same as forgetting what I ate for dinner a fortnight ago.” Letting her go, he retreated a pace.

“Killian, do you trust me?” Emma asked. She had asked it before, the morning after his return, when he’d essentially given her a ‘no’.

This time he pondered before giving her a response. “Aye, love, I do. I suppose I always have; even back at the beanstalk.” He gave a mildly deprecating smile. “Much to my detriment, at the time.”

“Okay.” Placing her hand on his chest, she said, “I need to show you something. It will hurt a little.”

Curious but obviously intrigued, he said, “Very well.”

As smoothly and quickly as possible, she plunged her hand into his chest, and extracted what she was looking for.

Killian felt a flash of intense pain, and a tugging-

And then Emma was holding something in her hand, bright and glowing, with a small smear of darkness whirling in its depths.

“My…heart?” he gasped, still reeling from the sensation.

She took his hand and lay the heart in his palm, and that was when he noticed.

It was too small, and completely flat on one side, as if it had been cleaved in two.

“It’s mine,” she said, sounding just as awed as he felt. “Half of it. I gave it to you in the Underworld, to bring you back to life. Belle thought you might have somehow time travelled, but now I know. You're the same you that I left.”

The heart half began to beat faster, and Killian flushed. “This cannot be possible,” he argued, though the proof was cradled in his hand, a small weight that had the power to change his life.

She pressed her hand beside her breastbone, and before he could stop her, she had removed her own heart.

Or rather, what remained of it.

“See?” she smiled, though clearly in pain. “Here’s the other half. I don’t want to put them together, though. I’m not sure what would happen to you.”

“Bloody hell, Emma, put it back!” he demanded, feeling irrational panic at the sight of her heart outside of her chest.

After restoring both her own and his heart pieces, Emma sat upon her workspace, giving them both some time to allow the pain to diminish and restore the breath in their lungs.

“So it seems I am quite literally your other half,” Killian said, intending the words as a joke but falling far short.

“You always were the romantic one,” she quipped, resting her elbows on her knees and studying him.

Yesterday, he had been preparing for the possibility of meeting his end while destroying the crocodile. But now, with this new and quite unfathomable information, he needed to reevaluate the consequences that would be paid.

“Then, if I were to, say, die…What would happen to you?”

“What kind of question is that? We've handled worse threats than Mim, if that's what you're worried about.”

“A wise question that I think merits some consideration. The life of a pirate is not usually synonymous with longevity.”

“Says the three-hundred-year-old man,” Emma chuckled.

“I am being quite serious, darling.”

She scratched her cheek, lips still rosy from their passionate kiss. “Honestly, I don't know. My parents share a heart, but that's the only other case I've heard of. Let's not go out of our way to test it, huh?”

Killian smiled, as he knew she was expecting of him. But it was not remotely amusing.

Himself, he had been perfectly willing to dangle before the jaws of the crocodile, if it facilitated the creature’s demise.

He wasn't sure he was ready to do the same with Emma.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Emma rolled over in bed to find Killian gone, and murky red light playing through the room. When she checked the digital clock, she was confused; only three hours had passed since her head hit the pillow, but the room had been dark then.

Then she noticed the ‘pm’ button lit up beside the numbers, and she groaned.

She'd slept for fifteen hours.

Why hadn't anyone woken her?

Emma could well imagine why. Killian and Regina probably had told the others to let her sleep, thinking she needed rest.

Which, to be fair, she did. She hadn't had a decent night’s sleep since before Gold had brought Cruella and Ursula into town.

Maybe even since she’d found out Gold had stolen Killian’s heart.

But fifteen hours?

Crawling out of bed, she rushed into the shower to begin her morning routine, not even stopping to dry her hair afterwards, pulling it into a tight ponytail instead.

With the taste of toothpaste still coating her mouth, Emma jogged down the steps to the first floor and found Henry and Robin eating lunch and discussing Henry's latest story.

“Mom, you're up!” Henry said, stirring his tomato soup. “I was thinking soon I might have to come true-loves-kiss you awake.”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Emma said, dropping a kiss to the top of his hair. “Where is everyone else?”

“Let's see. Regina went to the mayor’s office to try and get Cruella to release the ‘records’ of the town. Long shot, but she's hoping to maybe find another boat. Grandma and Grandpa got a tip from the Blind Witch that they might be able to talk to Neal back home. So, they're out trying to haunt him.”

Deciding that statement deserved a few more details, Emma opened her mouth, but Henry raised a hand. “Don't ask. Aaaaaand Hook is out talking to my other grandma, Milah. We might get to see her later this afternoon!”

Emma enthused along with her son, asking him what questions he would have for his grandmother, if he wanted to help cook her something special for dinner, and other things in the same vein, but beneath the surface of her enthusiasm was an unexpected prickling of nervousness.

She hadn’t felt that way last night, but now that their meeting had a deadline, Emma couldn’t help but wonder.

Would Milah like her? Hate her? Would she condemn Emma for loving both her son and former boyfriend? Or would she be happy to converse with Emma about the two men who had impacted their lives so drastically?

Emma knew so little about her. Formerly, her personality had only lived in the memories of Killian and Gold – and even if Gold, her murderer, had been persuaded to talk about Milah, Emma certainly wouldn’t have taken anything he said about her without a truckload (or canyon) of salt.

Killian had described her as a passionate, romantic person; adventurous, loving, brilliant and courageous.

Neal, when Emma had been dating him, had been vague about his parents, mostly talking about his father; but had described his mother, once. “She was usually busy, and would send me to my papa to play. She didn’t ever seem very happy. She was always kind to me, though. We were poor, but she tried to give me the best of everything. I loved her a lot, and even though I was really young, I remember being pretty broken up for a long time after she was gone. When I was older, I found out that she ran off with some guy she met in a bar. I think she loved me, and wanted to come back for me, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”

Raw words; but Emma knew personally the resentment and conflict that came with abandonment by a parent, regardless of motive. Neal himself probably hadn’t known exactly how to feel about her.

Was one description more right than the other? Or did the truth, as it so often did, fall somewhere in between? Maybe Milah had been both.

Nevertheless, she was clearly a multilayered, fascinating woman, and Emma was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

So, she would do her absolute best to start off on the right foot with Milah, and avoid another Liam-level disaster.

“Henry,” Robin said, slipping in between Henry's monologue about how he was planning to present the Book and its stories to Milah, “I do believe I left my gloves upstairs. I'll need them soon; Regina and I plan to go out and try and recruit some of the souls here when she returns. Could you fetch them for me, please?”

“Sure,” Henry said, too enamored of the prospect of meeting a new family member to notice anything odd about the request. “I'll be back.”

“You need to work on your subtlety,” Emma chucked when he was gone. “What did you need to say to me that Henry couldn't hear? Is something wrong with my parents, or-”

“No, nothing wrong. I just wanted to see how you felt about all this,” Robin said, sounding concerned.

Fighting off the remnants of morning sluggishness, Emma explained, “Actually, I'm the one who told Killian to go get her. We could really use her help.”

“I see.” Resting an elbow on the table, Robin said, “Just the same, tread carefully, m’lady. No matter how carefully the situation is handled, or how far in the past it's been, there is bound to be some discomfort and strain at first. Just as when I thought Marian had returned. I realize now of course it was not actually her, yet at the time it didn’t make the circumstances any easier.”

“Oh, I’m not under any illusion that it’s going to be easy,” Emma said, padding to the cabinet and finding a box of pop tarts. Unfrosted flavor. This really was hell. “But at least Milah, Killian and I have had time to get used to the idea and mentally prepare for this meeting. You didn’t even get to process anything, you were just thrown right into it. This will be different.” At least, Emma hoped so. “She and Henry deserve to be introduced, and maybe she'll have an idea on how to get out of here.”

“I do hope so,” Robin said. “I miss my little ones, and I doubt Zelena has simply given up on trying to take my baby girl. I can only hope the fairies are up to the task of protecting her.”

“They'll take care of her,” Emma said. At least this time, Zelena had no intention of harming the baby she was trying to kidnap, though that was probably of little comfort to Robin.

“Robin, I didn't see your gloves up there anywhere,” Henry announced, descending the stairs and turning to corner to the kitchen, breaking up their conversation.

“Apologies, Henry. I just now recall leaving them in the coat closet. I can get them myself, later. Thank you,” Robin said, with one last sympathetic look in Emma’s direction.

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Dead end,” Mary Margaret said as Heather’s camera fluttered softly to the infield grass of Storybrooke’s only little league baseball diamond, its owner nowhere in sight.

“What!” Stooping, Emma picked up the camera, rotating it around with her hands as though it would reveal some clue. “No. There aren't ‘dead ends’ with locater spells, not unless the person isn't in the realm any longer. Or unless she left town, but then it would bring us to at least the town line. Something’s wrong.”

“Maybe you made a mistake with the spell?” Her mother suggested.

“No. It was working. It brought us this far,” Emma frowned.

Killian, standing a bit away from them on the first baseline dirt, said thoughtfully, “I doubt it was an error on your part, Swan. You know what you're about. The interference must be on the fairy’s side. Is there a way to block or misdirect this kind of magic?”

“I have no idea, you guys. I've only been at this magic thing for a few years. I don't know everything!” She felt like throwing the camera against the dewy turf, but composed herself. “We wasted an entire morning with nothing to show for it.”

“Wait, no, Hook might be onto something,” said Mary Margaret excitedly, shooing away a purplish dragonfly that was drifting lazily between her and Emma. “You might have only a few years’ experience, but Regina has had many more. If there's a way to stop a locater spell, she would know about it. Maybe Zelena can adjust the potion with magic. She’s probably at her sister’s place because of Zeph’s illness. Come on, the mayor’s house is nearby.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“Milah, there's likely to be several people at the house. Emma and Henry's family is…extensive, to say the least.” And he hadn't even begun to describe how convoluted the family tree was.

Keeping pace with him as they walked down the streets of ‘Underbrooke’, Milah shrugged. “I'm not worried. As long as Emma is willing to let her son meet me, I'm grateful.”

“They may…talk,” Killian warned. Regina had no filter, and Princess Snow, bless her innocent heart, tended to say whatever came to her mind before reading other people's reaction. Between them, there was no telling what kind of commentary they might make on the already complicated situation.

Holding her head high, Milah gave a tiny, determined smile. “That doesn't bother me.”

“No?”

“Killian, I've had a lot of time to think down here. As a matter of fact, I've done nothing but think. And I've come to realize, I don't care what people say about me anymore. Too long, I let what those ignorant villagers thought about me affect me, burden me; and in the end, all it led to was the very cowardice I accused Rumple of having. Oh, don't misunderstand me, Rumple and the villagers who bullied me had their share the blame; and I wasn’t even necessarily wrong to leave. But the fact is, I abandoned my boy without returning, and I let you lie to everyone about the circumstances of my departure. Even when I thought I had escaped the suffocating box Rumple put me in, I just put myself in another without realizing it. I’m tired of people making my choices for me, even indirectly. I didn't go back to Bae out of fear of what he would think, I didn't even try, and that isn't real freedom. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and it's why I'm still here. I won't do it anymore.”

Adjusting her scarf, she finished her speech with a slightly embarrassed little giggle. “So, I can handle whatever they throw at me.”

“I’ve no doubt you can,” Killian said, spotting his home a mere two houses away, easily distinguished by the white picket fence Emma had so wanted.

His home, where Emma and his baby waited for them.

His baby.

His baby.

If only he could put his full trust in Milah, he thought ruefully, unlatching the gate when they finally reached it. She seemed so sincere and heartfelt, and upon leaving her home had assured him again that she wanted to help.

But so had Liam.

Killian would not, could not, make another error.

“Beautiful house,” said Milah, tipping her head back to take it all in. “Yours?”

“After a fashion.” He swung the gate open, falling back so Milah could enter first. “That reminds me, I was going to ask you if you know why the Underworld is a nearly perfect replica of my town.”

“Oh? Is that why Hades changed it again?” Milah smoothed a curl and waited on the cobblestones until he joined her. “To match your town?”

“ ‘Again’?” Killian ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, musing. “Was it different before this?”

“It's changed a few times since I arrived,” she explained, gesturing around them. “It was Misthaven for a long time, though the homes and shops changed occasionally. For weeks or months at a time, it would be copies of other lands, too. Arendelle, and places I’ve never seen before – tall hedges and giant mushrooms, and a strange place where everything was black and white. But it would always default back to Misthaven, eventually.”

“That sounds like Wonderland, and possibly that place Dr. Whale used to live,” Killian said, trying to fit the pieces of information around to make a complete picture.

“Well, I know I don’t have the best sense of time - it’s become more difficult to measure the longer I’ve been here - but about thirty years ago, it became this town.”

“And Hades is the one who changes it?” Killian asked, low and probing.  

“Well, that’s what I assumed. I never exactly asked.” Milah stopped and placed a hand over his arm as they came to the base of the porch steps. “Killian, are you all right? I don't have to meet Emma and Henry if you're not comfortable with it, you know. I'll turn around right now, if that's what you wish.”

Were the gray eyes that watched him truly those of the woman who had been lost to him all those years ago, or a mask belonging to something else? “Not at all.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Well, I wasn’t going to post this until it was longer, but…this seems like a good stopping place? I really hope I kept everyone in character in this one. For the first time this year, I felt like my writing was really flowing. Which led to a quicker update. Hope all my USA readers enjoy the long weekend!

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

Present Day

The Queen was not as Killian remembered her.

Gone were the maniacal moods and sultry, theatrical wardrobe. That sword’s edge, which she had reveled in perpetually forcing those who interacted with her to walk, no longer seemed to exist.

Regina had gone soft.

The first morning after arriving in this realm, Killian had seen her briefly outside of the diner. But that had not prepared him for the sight of Her High and Mighty Majesty sorting laundry with a decidedly un-royal, roguish man who, if the rings on their fingers were any indication, was apparently her husband.

“I'm sorry, Emma,” Regina was saying as she matched socks. “I know I haven't been much help. The kids have a stomach flu. We've washed so much bedding and cloths that I think we're out of laundry detergent for the second time. Even with Zelena helping, we can barely keep up. And without my magic, I'm not sure how helpful I'd be out there.”

The Evil Queen had a family. Peace. Children. Even after all her deeds. Forgiven, repented.

Redeemed.

“You know that’s not true, Regina,” said Snow, engaged with her phone device. Killian wondered fleetingly if the technology was imbued with some sort of spell, as the people of this realm could not seem to ignore them for more than a few minutes.

“Remember,” Snow added, able to both talk and at tap at the bright light on her phone at the same time, “I've seen you sword fight. I've even fought you. You're plenty capable.”

“Thank you, but maybe it's best I leave the swashbuckling to the pirate for the time being.” Folding a pillow casing, Regina offered Killian a graceful smile – a smile that, for the first time in their history that he could recall, didn't convey homicidal delight or sexual overtones. “Hook, I’m-and believe me, it surprised me as much as you - actually glad you're back. Welcome home.”

“Indeed, things weren't quite the same in this town without you,” chimed in Regina’s sandy-haired paramour. The man must have been made of sterner stuff than he appeared, Killian concluded, if he was daring enough to have romanced the Evil Queen. “Your daughter is quite beautiful. A very belated congratulations to you. You must be proud.”

The aggravating bite of shock never even sank in with the words, so inured was Killian to strangers asking him about Ariadne.  “Aye.”

As he thought about the baby he realized, somewhat to his chagrin, that he was missing the little princess. Holding her, he'd found his outlook on the world a bit less bleak. He hoped she was safe, behind the curtain of Swan’s magic at the loft.

Thinking of Emma almost made him place his hand over his heart in reflex. Now that he had seemingly incontrovertible proof that their love story had been real, he would no longer go through the charade of pretending to be disinterested in her, but to trifle with her so shamefully when she had been trying to concentrate in the shed had undoubtedly crossed the line.

He would apologize again. And maybe, maybe…

If he had turned away from revenge and become a hero once, maybe he could do it again.

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he missed a portion of the next conversation.

Emma, leaning against the wall of the wash room and away from a large bucket of soiled fabrics, was replying to something the queen said. “Don't be sorry, Regina.  I get it. Besides, right now, you can be even more helpful away from the front lines, anyway. You're the magic expert, and I need your advice. We tried tracking the fairy who attacked Graham with a locater spell, but it took us someplace deserted. Can they be overridden or stopped?”

“As far as I am aware, there is no way to counter one. You’re sure she wasn’t there?”

Emma snorted. “Unless she's six feet under the pitcher’s mound at the baseball field, yeah. Pretty sure.”

“Odd. You still have the item you used to track her?”

Emma lifted the camera, which had been tucked underneath her arm, and Regina nodded. “Zelena can look at it. She should be back soon; she went to the store to buy more Pedialyte.”

“You didn't let her drive, did you?”

“I did. And right after, I let Roland go play with one of Geppetto’s chainsaws.”

Emma chuckled. “Okay, okay, it was a dumb question. It's just that after the incident on Baker Street-”

“Believe me, she's not getting behind the wheel of a car again unless we want her to hit something,” Regina declared sourly, mouth pursing in disapproval.

“Wait, now,” Killian protested as something occurred to him. “Yesterday, when we investigated Madam Mim’s dwelling, we found she had destroyed many of her belongings to avoid detection by just such a spell. If there is a way to block it, Mim surely does not possess this knowledge.”

Rubbing at her forehead, Swan sighed. “You’re right. How did I miss that?”

Lowering her phone, which had chimed noisily, Snow said, “So does this eliminate the possibility Heather is working with Mim? We had just assumed they were in league, but maybe they aren't. Could Heather be taking advantage of this crisis for her own ends?”

“But that leads us the same old question: Why? Why would she attack Graham like that?” The fine skin around Swan’s eyes was crinkled with worry and frustration, and she seemed ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

“And Mother Superior just texted me to say there's been no change with Graham,” Snow announced sadly. “She still isn't sure what's wrong.”

“Then we're going to track Heather down, with or without a spell, and make her fix him,” said Emma, in that single-minded way she had.

Robin, finishing his pile of clean laundry, reached for the bucket of dirty cloths. “Zelena won’t be gone long. No matter how I feel about her, I will say she loves her daughter. If there is a way to salvage the spell, she’ll do it, if only for the protection of Zeph.”

Killian did not want to wait for Zelena, whoever that might be. He wanted Mim discovered and disposed of, so Ariadne could be safe. Why were they wasting time with the Red Fairy when they had another, easier lead to follow?

He understood, though, that Emma was seeking vengeance for Graham, even if she didn’t fully realize it. It would be futile to try and turn her from the path she’d set for herself.

So, as unobtrusively as possible, he slipped out of the washroom and set himself on his own trail.

Towards Storybrooke’s docks.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

Milah couldn't seem to take her eyes off Henry.

She watched him like his every movement might just be made of magic, and she was afraid of missing even the smallest detail. Emma recognized this, because she had spent her first year around Henry doing very much the same thing.

Apart from a courteous hello to everyone on the house, and a sufficiently uncomfortable introduction to Emma, Milah’s primary focus was on her grandson, and Emma wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.  

Mary Margaret kept shooting Emma significant looks as she and David tended the fireplace, trying to have a conversation without speaking, but Emma had no idea what her mother was trying to get across.

“How tall you are for just thirteen! It makes me wonder how-” Milah hesitated, crossing her feet at the ankle as she sat on the living room’s sofa. She seemed very nervous, like a bird preparing to take flight at the next noise it heard.

For her part, Emma’s own anxiousness was giving her the urge to lean into Killian, or take his hand, or press her knee against his as they sat. It wasn't until she couldn't that she realized how touchy-feely they’d become since their first date. No wonder Henry would sometimes make faces at them. They were one of those couples.

But she certainly didn't want Milah to think she was flaunting it in her face or playing juvenile games, so she kept her hands in her lap and sat tensely.

“How what?” asked Henry, who was sitting beside Milah, face open and trusting.

“Well, how tall my boy was at your age,” Milah explained; carefully, as if afraid she might upset Henry by mentioning him.

Regina, lounging in the corner where Emma had relocated the crib to clear space, stiffened; and Robin cupped her elbow with his hand soothingly. Mary Margaret and David, still sitting on the rug near the hearth, listened to Milah with expressions of sympathetic interest as the glow from the fire began to warm the room.

Apologetically, Henry said, “Oh. I wish I knew, grandma. Dad seemed pretty tall to me, but he was an adult when I met him. I think he was taller than Grandpa Gold, but not as tall as Grandpa David.”

“That's kind of you to share that, Henry,” Milah said, and Emma could hear the ache in her voice.

The firewood popped loudly, twice, as everyone waited for someone else to speak. Emma tapped into her superpower, waiting for an indication that Milah was putting on an act. But she sensed no deceit.

“Wait, Hook knew dad as a kid!” Henry exclaimed, brightening. “He told me a lot of stories about him. Maybe he remembers. Was my dad around my height?”

Killian smiled, reminiscing. “I think you've the advantage there, Henry. Even at a year or two older than you, Bae was just a slip of a lad. It makes me wonder how you've grown so much, when Bae was given proper sailor’s breakfasts every morning, and you prefer those ghastly pop squares.”

“Thanks, Yoda,” Henry laughed. “They're called Pop Tarts.”

Emma allowed herself a tiny smile as Killian, missing the Star Wars reference, merely seemed quizzical.

“Well,” said Milah, relaxing, “I certainly didn't come here to talk about Bae only. Henry, tell me more about yourself. Do you enjoy your tutoring and lessons?”

Henry's thoughts were written all over his face. Emma could have almost said it for him. All the things I could tell you about, grandma, and you ask me about school? But he responded politely. “Yes. I really like reading and English. I want to be an author.”

Milah's face lit up, her obvious joy seeming to overcome her trepidation and hesitancy. “Do you? Then please, please, let me offer just a bit of advice. Listen to your dream, and act on it right away. Don't wait, go out and seize it while you can.”

“I already have. Let me show you my book. It's in my room.” Henry said, leaping up and darting from the gathering.

“I would appreciate it if you didn't bring up my son’s dead father around him,” Regina said icily. “He didn't lose him all that long ago.”

Emma cringed, but Milah seemed to be able to hold her own.

“Your son? Am I missing something?” she threw back, matching Regina’s arched eyebrow with a taunting twitch of her own.

“As a matter of fact, you are. I adopted Henry when Emma ga…couldn't care for him for several years. I'm as much his mother as she is.”

Milah turned to Emma with an expression of startled realization, and then embarrassment, then deep empathy. “I didn't know, Emma. I'm terribly sorry.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat up. “I didn’t make the decision lightly. It was complicated…” She couldn’t describe the prison situation without mentioning Neal, and until Milah specifically asked, Emma had no wish to tarnish the good memories of a dead woman who had been stuck in limbo for hundreds of years.

“You don’t have to explain anything else about it,” Milah said decisively. “And I didn’t mean to pry into your past like that.”

Right then, Emma decided she liked Milah. “You didn't. It's not like it's a secret or anything.”

Killian placed a steadying hand over Emma's, while in the background, David unfolded his arms and nudged at Mary Margaret, who had been observing the change in conversation like a bear about to defend her cub. Grabbing the poker, Mary Margaret stabbed at the fire, while undoubtedly keeping one ear swiveled towards the discussion.

 Milah noticed none of it, her concentration all on Emma. “Yet, I been where you are, Emma. I know. It's every day, isn't it?”

Regina seemed openly confused, but Emma knew exactly what Milah meant. Every day for ten years, thinking, wondering, praying to anyone who was out there to listen for him to be okay. Every day, every song on the radio. Every day, seeing every parent in the store pushing their kid in a cart. Every day thinking of the boy she'd given up.

“Yeah.”

“I'm glad you're with him again.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

Killian was somewhat surprised to see the Jolly Roger’s gangplank still lowered, but he took advantage of it, stealing aboard his beloved craft as easily as though he'd never left.

He held his sword in readiness for a confrontation, but the Jolly creaked a lonely, desolate tune as she bobbed in the harbor, the music of a vacant ship.

Where had that dastardly scum gone? He certainly wasn't on the deck, despite the urgency of getting the ship seaworthy for his escape.

Normally, this was the moment where Killian would decide he was walking into a trap and weigh the benefits of persisting against cutting his losses, but knowing who he was dealing with…

He wasn't sure the old boy had enough foresight for such things.

Still, he stayed highly alert as he made his way below deck, using a little-known passage that took him directly where he wanted to be: the small crew’s cabin, which boasted bunk beds and, beyond that, a holding area with storage compartments.

Lifting the latticed lid of one of the compartments, Killian found a coil of rope, and then lowered the cover slowly so the hinges didn’t squeak.

When he found and defeated Blackbeard, he would need to keep him subdued during questioning. A pair of Emma’s irons would have been optimum, but he would make-do with what he had.

 Now, the only problem remaining: Where was the git?

From there, he went in the direction of the captain’s quarters. No doubt Blackbeard was there, drinking or counting gold, smug and assured of his victory.

“My plan was to use her blood to break the lock, then toss the remains into the harbor for chum.”

Oh, but it was going to be a heavy temptation to skip the interrogation and use the sword to run the villain through. He would have to put all thoughts of Ariadne aside for the duration, or he knew he’d end up killing his source of information.

After, he comforted himself. After he got what he needed, he could finish Blackbeard in a plethora of agonizing ways – and he could imagine several.

Before gaining access to his cabin, he paused. How would he solve the problem of the ladder? He couldn’t very well climb down with his back to his enemy, vulnerable as a spider on a wall. If Blackbeard was close enough, it would actually be an advantage; he could drop him with the element of surprise. If not…

He was going to have to jump down, and hope to avoid a sprained ankle.

Opening the door revealed nothing, and Killian quickly dropped to the floor. From his safe, the dagger hummed to him quietly, like an unused sense. He ignored it.

Blackbeard was sprawled on the bed, head lolling back. He did not react to Killian’s sudden appearance, even so much as a twitch.

The man was passed out drunk. This would be easier than he'd thought.

Killian went closer, and when he was just a few steps away, he suddenly noticed.

He had seen enough death over the course of his life to recognize it when it lingered too close, and Blackbeard metaphorically reeked of it.

“Well, someone got to you first, did they?” Killian muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Shame."

“Isn't it, though?”

Killian whirled, nearly jumping out of his skin. He and Blackbeard had been the only two bodies in the cabin when he'd entered, he'd made sure of that…

But there was an unfamiliar woman suddenly sitting on his table, swinging her legs childishly, projecting an aura of mischief that didn't seem at all playful.

“I mean, he was a mediocre ally with no magic, but he had his uses. Until he decided to disobey me,” she added, picking up a sextant and peering through it. Then, he noticed the pale lavender streaks woven into her hair, and he felt disgusted with himself. He had hesitated over the very transforming nonsense Blue Fairy had warned them of. Of course, this was Mim.

Starting out of his shock, Killian dashed toward her, hoping to take her by surprise, but she lifted one finger and scolded, “Ahh-tch-tch.”

Invisible binds kept him from moving, even from blinking.

But he found he could still speak.

“Mim. Funny, I was just looking for you,” he said, putting just enough liveliness into his voice to keep her wondering at his game until he'd learned hers.

“With ropes and a sword?” she said, and the flirty barkeeper was back. This woman's personality was all over the place – or, that was the way she wanted to portray herself. “How fun. You flatter me.”

“How did you get on board with the blood lock?” Killian struggled against his paralysis, but couldn't even lift a brow.

“It's gone. You must have permanently lifted it yourself, somehow, when you allowed your enemy to commander the ship.” She shrugged. “Remnant magic, maybe. Or perhaps you could simply because Emma engineered the lock that way.”

“Why did you slay Blackbeard?”

“He was instructed to kill the infant and keep the sheriff distracted for the morning, so I could collect fairy dust. But no, he was too intimidated by you to go through with it, so I had to think of another way to keep her off my back. I have to do everything myself, apparently. Poor Graham. He always tipped well.”

“So Heather is working for you,” said Killian said heatedly.

“Yes, she is. But I'm not here to monologue my plans to you. I'm here because you can give me something Heather can't.”

Since Mim was using magic on Killian, she had obviously stolen dust at some point that morning, so whatever she wanted from him, it wasn't help acquiring that type of advantage. “I already offered you my services, which you rejected. And you think I would aid you with anything, after you ordered Emma’s infant murdered?” He tested his arms again, but could still not move.

Mim threw back her head, laughing. “I gave you so much more credit than I should have. I thought you'd be able to hold out at least a week against Ms. Swan’s overtures. You didn't last more than a couple days.” Shimmying off the table, she came closer to Killian. “Did you really think that baby is yours?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” She was in reach of his blade now, peering intently into his eyes. If only he were free…

“Remember your price for our alliance, that night in the bar? The paternity test? Please. Do not treat me like a fool; it makes me angry.”

“If not mine, then whose is she?” Killian asked, hoping to keep her within striking distance. The magic had to wear off sometime. Nothing lasted forever.

“The deputy's, naturally. Sweet little girl, takes after her grandmother in looks.”

Killian didn't know what, if any, emotion could show on his face, but Mim seemed to read him easily. Reaching forward, she pinched his cheek. “Aww, does that disappoint you? Were you hoping Emma’s story was true? Did you want to be a daddy? I'm sorry to say, but Heather has been on my side this whole time. Right when you arrived, I had her place false memories in the minds of the town residents. None of what they believe is real, Hook.”

His hand and feet began to tingle, as though feeling was returning to them. “You're lying, fairy,” he challenged into the salty air of the cabin. Perhaps, if Emma hadn't shown him the heart halves, he might have believed her. “If Heather was your ally all this time, she'd have procured the wand for you long ago, and you would never have had to deal with the likes of Blackbeard.”

Mim drew her wand, reversing a few steps. “Ahh. Well done, Captain. I suppose I should have thought out that story better. I see my enchantment won't last much longer, so I'll be direct. I found I need Rumpelstiltskin’s help with something. But, I can't force him to do it without the use of the dagger that controls him. He doesn't seem like the type to offer assistance out of the goodness of his heart. Heather told me she saw one of your crew at the convent last night. I want the dagger; I know you have it.”

“Want all day long, if you like,” Killian retorted, now straining against the barriers that held him. “I've waited hundreds of years; you'll get no pity from me.” He could still hear the call of the blade, but it seemed Mim could not. She did not even glance in the safe’s direction.

“Yes, but I know something you don't. I know where your Dark One is,” Mim’s singsong echoed around them.

The disclosure was like a tsunami washing over him. “What?” Killian demanded, abandoning his resistance.

 “Indeed, I do. After Emma left her baby with Belle this morning, she visited the cell where she keeps him, right before going to Granny's. I had just enough power left for one transformation, so after helping Blackbeard take the child, I disguised myself as an insect, tracked down that yellow thing she drives, then followed her the rest of the way. I had only wanted to make sure she was out of the way before going to the mines for dust, but imagine my surprise when she unintentionally led me right to Rumpelstiltskin himself. I'll bet my wand Emma never shared that little detail with you. She's known where he is this whole time.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Why else would I be looking for the dagger? Think about it! I just need the Dark One’s magic for one thing, then you can stab him with it as many times as your black little heart desires. Upon my word. Didn't I keep my promise to Blackbeard, until he broke his?”

The temptation was strong. So unbelievably strong, like ropes pulling at him, like an ogre dragging him, and Killian knew himself to be the weakest of men.

But…something Mim had said, he could not shake from his mind…

Your black little heart.

It was not. It was Emma’s heart, it was strong, and it was his. He would not curse or cheapen the gift she had entrusted to him.

And right then and there, he made his definitive choice. “No.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, I am done. With all of it. You will never have the dagger, and neither will I. You are going to lose, fairy, and I am going to find happiness again.”

With that, he braced himself for the inevitable attack.

However, Mim merely stood there, assessing him coldly. “You may think that now, but from personal experience I know it's nearly impossible to give up the thing that's been driving you for years. You will change your mind, pirate, and when you do, let me know. We both need to find Rumpelstiltskin to complete our revenge.”

Then she was gone, in a purple cloud of smoke.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

An hour after Mary Margaret and David had taken their leave, Henry gave his grandmother one last goodbye hug, and then Milah was walked to the door by Emma, Regina, and Killian.

Outside, on the porch, she turned to Emma and said again, “Emma, thank you so much. Henry’s a joy. And supper was wonderful.”

“You're welcome. I really enjoyed meeting you,” replied Emma, offering her hand. Milah ignored it and gave her a quick hug, then shifted her body to address all of them. “Listen, what do you need me to do? Give me a task so I can help Henry get home. I can go through Hades’ throne room and see if there's anything about how to summon a boat, or-”

“I have an idea, dear,” said Regina with a smile that featured all her teeth, and Emma frowned at her through the dim porch light, trying to get a read on what the queen was up to. “You see, Hook’s pernicious brother ripped out some of Henry's book-you know, the one he showed you? The story about Hades is missing. We think there might have been something there he didn't want us to see. Liam may have sent those pages to Hades, and if we can find them, there might be something useful there. But we're having a hard time getting into his domain. He knew we were coming both times that we tried.”

“So, love,” Killian broke in unexpectedly, “if you could distract him tonight, say around midnight, we were hoping to enter his lair by way of the cave entrance in the forest, and have a look for ourselves.”

What in the…Since when was this the plan?

Throwing looks between Regina and Killian, Emma waited for some cue she might be missing, but their attention was exclusively on Milah.

“Yes, I can do that. I…” Milah paused. “You aren't planning on hurting him, are you? He is my friend, you know.”

“No,” said Regina, exasperated. “How do you hurt a god, anyway?”

Killian smiled comfortingly at Milah. “Reconnaissance only, on my honor.”

She gave him a look that didn’t conceal her love. “Okay, then. Midnight. Regina, it was a…it was interesting meeting you. Killian? Thanks for bringing me here.”

Stepping forward, Killian kissed her forehead lightly. “Goodnight, Milah. Be careful,” he added earnestly.

After Milah had let herself through the gate and was on the street, Emma folded her arms and said sharply to the others, “Inside. You two are going to tell me exactly what all of that was about. Now.”

Killian obediently moved towards the door. “Very well. Let's go to our room, though.”

Storybrooke

Present day

Discovering Killian had left Regina’s mansion, Emma set out to locate him the instant she and her mother were finished talking with Zelena – a conversation that had garnered them no new information.

Regina decided to tag along with them, for reasons she didn’t bother to share. Emma, however, was grateful for the assistance.

There was really no question where they would find Killian, so they began instinctively walking to the docks without really discussing it.

Along the way, Mary Margaret cleared her throat. “Emma, about me suggesting a True Love’s Kiss with Graham…”

Regina threw an incredulous look her way, but kept silent.

“What about it?” Emma asked, wondering how close they were to the docks.

“I know it wouldn't have worked, and I'm sorry. But that's not all I need to apologize for.”

“Umm.” She was beginning to smell the ocean. Good. Maybe this conversation could be avoided, after all. “It’s fine.”

“I tried to push you together a while back, and it was wrong of me.”

Maybe not. “Forget about it, mom.” Emma was nearly pleading.

“No, I need to say this. See, I knew how sad you were. My heart was breaking for you. Even Henry couldn't make you smile. Then I saw the picture of you in your pink dress in our loft one day, and remembered how after Neal died, Hook took you on a date and…you were just so radiant, Emma, so full of joy again. I wanted that for you. I thought maybe the same thing could happen once more.”

“It's okay. I know you didn't mean any harm.” Emma said with conclusiveness, but Mary Margaret persisted.

“But the circumstances were very different back then. You weren't pregnant when Neal died. You weren't even dating him. I was so determined to see you happy again I lost sight of that. And I am very sorry. Oh, and please don't think Graham put me up to it. He had no idea. I don’t want things to be awkward between you two. He's a perfect gentleman.”

“I know that, mom. It's over and done with. Really, it's fine.”

Eyes searching the sky, Mary Margaret said, “I just wish I had helped you more. I had no idea what to do. You didn't even tell David and me you were going to have Adi until you started showing.”

There were a lot of things Emma had kept from her mother the last year, trying to protect what was left of her heart.

“She married him,” Regina announced suddenly, sounding pleased with herself. “Hook.”

Mary Margaret reacted as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her; breathless until she burst out, “What!? When?”

“In the Underworld,” Regina said, ignoring Emma’s frantic cutting motions. This was not the time to be getting into this.

Of course, it was too late. “But he was dead,” Mary Margaret said. “How…”

Regina waited for Emma to give the story, but when Emma mutely declined, she explained, “He asked her the second after I split her heart and we brought him back to life. She didn't even want to wait. You had left to go back to your son by then, of course; so you weren’t there at the time. I had assumed that by now she would have told you.”

At this point, Mary Margaret’s eyes were roughly the size of the pie tins at Granny’s. “And you – you split your heart? But that must mean you really are True Love. You married – Emma, why didn't you ever tell me any of this?”

What was I supposed to tell you? That I married him and then lost him? That I kept paying his cell phone bill for all these months so I could listen to his voice on the message system? That I'd hold the receiver to my stupid stomach hoping somehow the baby could hear? Should I have told you about the time when I was shopping at the Target a couple towns over and had a semi-breakdown in the baby department when I saw a Jake and the Neverland Pirates onesie and terrified the teenage employee?

Her walls had been the only things that kept her together the last year. Or so she’d believed. In retrospect, reaching out to her parents might have helped. “Guess I thought it was easier this way.”

“Emma, I don't care if things are easy. I care about you. And if getting Hook back is what you want, then I'm going to help you.”

“Mom, that really isn’t nec-”

Smugly, Mary Margaret continued, “I already got a head start this morning when I brought up Graham in front of Hook. I was seeing if he still has feelings for you.”

The high, slanting roof of a familiar white building rose in the distance, and Emma knew they had almost reached the harbor. “Okay, I'm grateful, but-”

“And,” Mary Margaret continued excitedly, “I think there's a good chance he could. Emma, did it occur to you that if you really did marry him, and Hades let him live, then…you're still married to him. There was no ‘till death do us part’.”

Well. That certainly complicated things.

Or maybe, just made them a lot simpler.

All this time, Emma had assumed that losing him to the Underworld had nullified any vows they'd made there, but Mary Margaret had hit her over the head with the truth. The man she'd split her heart with was here, and probably very much still her husband.

This caused little fireworks of giddiness and wonder to burst through her, from head to toe. “I guess you're right,” she said, picking her words carefully.

“This is perfect, don't you see?” said Mary Margaret dreamily. “When he gets his memories back, we can have a renewal of vows ceremony. Oh, Emma, I've had a wedding planning binder for you for ages. I'll finally be able to use it.”

Regina, walking on the far side of Mary Margaret, smirked, and Emma had terrifying flashes of a Momzilla-Of-The-Bride planning a huge wedding gala. “Which is great, but we have a lot to deal with first.”

“I'm not worried. I really meant it when I said our specialty is breaking curses. Graham will be fine, and Mim will be caught. But we can't stop our lives while that happens.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Doesn't mean I'm not a little pissed at Killian for just taking off in the middle of this.”

“Your husband,” Mary Margaret tested out the title.

“Yeah. My husband.” Emma sighed. “He’d better have a good reason for this.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“What exactly was going on down there?” Emma asked, jutting out her chin as Regina and Killian closed the bedroom door behind them. “Is there something I don’t know about?”

Slitting her eyes, Regina said, “Oh, I’m sorry. While you were busy becoming besties with your boyfriend’s former lover, Hook and I actually happened to have a plan in place for this visit. Excuse us very much for offending you.”

Injured, she looked to Killian. “You decided this without me?”

“Not exactly.”

Regina sniffed. “Yes we did, and thank you very much, by the way, for not consulting me before allowing this woman to meet my son. I really appreciate it.”

“Regina, that is enough,” Killian warned, lifting a finger in her direction. “Not another word to her. Emma, I do apologize. You were finally asleep, and I was loathe to wake you this morning when Regina and I were discussing Milah. Regina was supposed to fill you in, but I guess she never did.”

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus,” Regina sneered at him. “I had other things to do this morning besides wait for Sleeping Beauty here to wake up. Besides, she knows now.”

“So what is this plan?” Emma demanded, still not ready to let it go. “I assume it has something to do with breaking into the dungeons again?”

Disgustedly, Regina said, “Don’t be naïve, Emma. The dungeons are a smokescreen. We’re going to see if Milah takes the bait of our ‘mission’ tonight. If she rats us out to Hades, there will be no harm done. If it’s all quiet, we’ll know for sure she’s on our side.”

“Regina,” Killian growled, “what did I bloody tell you? Stop trying to antagonize her.”

Emma wondered what kind of choices were they going to have to make before this was all over. “And you went along with this, Killian? Another trap? This is someone you love!” she protested.  

“I don’t trust her,” Regina corrected. “It was my idea. And I won’t let you keep blithely putting our son in danger until we know what her true intentions are. Quite frankly, I am furious that you’ve already done so. Thankfully, Hook was able to see my point of view.”

“I was talking to Killian, Regina! This is ridiculous, anyway, because she didn’t lie when she was here, not once. I was listening for it, but it never happened.”

Killian lifted his brows in interest at her words, but Regina quickly waved off her assertion.  “Assuming your ‘power’ even works down here, that doesn’t mean anything unless we outright asked her if she’s under orders from Hades. And we didn't. Just because the two of you bonded, it doesn't mean she isn't playing us. Hades could be using her without her even knowing it. I made the call, Ms. Swan, to protect my son. And not only that, my step-grandchild that you're working on in there. Who, by the way, is also my child's sibling.”

 The doorbell rang shrilly, and Emma swallowed her retort. They were fracturing more and more with every day that passed, and it was the most dangerous thing that could be happening.

“Let's go,” Regina said crisply. “We can't let Henry answer that on his own.” She threw open the door and stalked from the room.

Emma grasped her boyfriend’s wrist as he tried to follow. “Killian, what is going on with you? This can't be what you really…If this is about Liam, it's…Look, it's different now.”

He held her gaze briefly, and in that look expressed so much love and adoration, yet such doubt.

“Mom, Hook! It's Belle!” Henry shouted from downstairs.

Distressed, Killian mouthed his friend’s name, wrist locking stiffly in her hand.

“Wait,” Emma said, heart skipping a beat. “We left her back in Storybrooke. Does this mean she’s…” The last word she wanted to say was dead.

Bleakly, Killian mumbled, “I don’t know.”

Releasing his arm, Emma took his hand instead. “Let’s go figure it out. Why don’t you put on some tea for her? I have the feeling she’s going to need it.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Killian, what were you thinking?” Emma cried upon spotting him on board the Jolly as she, Snow, and Regina ran down the pier to meet him. “Scratch that. You just took off, what was I supposed to think?”

“Forgive me, Emma,” Killian, disembarking the ship before casting a wary glance over his shoulder at the Jolly Roger. The sound of the dagger did not carry to him at this distance, which was a relief. He still was unsure of whether anybody else could hear it; but he had a feeling that if anyone could, it would be Emma Swan. “I thought that while you were occupied elsewhere, I might contribute by asking Blackbeard where he last saw Mim.”

Oh, he was going to confess to his misconduct and have her return the weapon to the Blue Fairy, but on his own terms.  

Snow looked at him like a disappointed mother, and Regina sighed. Emma pointed to the Jolly Roger. “Am I going to find a dead man on that ship?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t kill him,” Killian said, freely expressing his dissatisfaction with that outcome. “Do not misunderstand; I was going to, the moment I was done questioning him. But he was already dead when I arrived.”

Regina folded her arms skeptically, and Snow thoughtfully pursed her lips.

But Emma came closer, and a few nearby seagulls took to the air in fright. “Who killed him?” she asked, giving him her readiness to believe what he was saying.

“Mim did. She was there, she tried to sway me to her side.”

“Why would she need you?” asked Regina, point blank. Killian didn't blame her; he would have asked the same question in her position.

“That isn't important right now. She ended up revealing much more than she intended during our conversation.”

“Such as?”

“For one, she needs the crocodile. She didn't say why, but gave the impression she needed some magical task carried out. And Swan,” he informed, “she claims she already knows where he is.”

“How?”

“She followed you this morning,” Killian explained, trying to keep the bitterness from his tone. True, between clues from his crew and Emma herself, he'd guessed for some time that she had been holding the Dark One imprisoned somewhere, but the thought of the beast being so near and yet so far away…

Let it go. You made your choice clear with Mim this morning. Don't make that viper right when she said you'd turn your back on your second chance at the first opportunity. Your future isn't ending with the crocodile. It's just beginning, hopefully with Emma and the baby.

“Followed…How?”

“Her bloody shapeshifting tricks. Which leads me to believe your tracking spell wasn't malfunctioning. Like as not that Red Fairy was at that game field, in disguise.”

“Zelena did say she couldn't find anything wrong with the locater spell,” Snow said pensively.

“You're right!” Emma exclaimed. “There was a dragonfly near me and mom at the diamond. A purple one. That must have been Mim. Heather was probably pretending to be a ladybug or something. We wouldn’t have seen her in the grass. They were trying to mislead us.”

“Ladybug?” Regina questioned.

“First red insect I thought of, okay? Jeez.”

“And Swan,” Killian persisted, “Mim used magic to restrain me while she talked to me. She must have accessed the fairy dust at some point this morning.”

“But the dwarfs were supposed to be watching the mines…” Stepping to the side of the walkway and standing near the edge, ocean spraying below her, Emma brought out her talking device. After a minute, she was speaking with somebody else, shouting over the rush of the wind. “Leroy, did Mim show up at the mines? What? No. No, I know you guys took turns watching, but I need to know.... Hold up, are you kidding me? Sleepy? Leroy! Well, I know I didn’t explicitly forbid him from having a turn standing guard, but I thought that would go without saying!”

“Unbelievable,” Regina uttered, while Snow pressed her palm to her face.

“Forget it. Never mind, just stay on the mines in case Mim tries for more dust. Without the help of Sleepy,” Swan ordered, then forcefully replaced her machine in the pocket of her trousers. “Well, now we know how she got magic.”

Musical notes rang from Snow’s person, and the princess collected her own phone. “It’s David. I better get this.” Distancing herself from the others, she started her conversation quietly.

Meanwhile, Killian decided to pursue some clarification. “Who was sleepy?” he asked, irate. Had Mim’s power had truly been acquired at the fault of a napping watchman, he would feel quite justified in his outrage.

“A narcoleptic dwarf,” Regina explained scathingly, no more amused than him. “For some reason, they thought he’d be a great lookout.”

“Can’t do anything about it now,” Emma said, resting her hands on her hips. “We have to focus on damage control. Mim has been ten steps ahead of us this whole time. Enough of that. We have to get ahead of her.”

“But how?” Regina asked. “Our only clue is that she needs Rumpelstiltskin for something.”

“Then we'll go from there. Regina, could you find Belle and start researching spells and curses or whatever, and find ones that require the most powerful magic? Like the level only a Dark One could achieve?”

“I can do that,” Regina said shortly. “Truth be told, I have a bit of cabin fever. Robin and my sister can supervise the children for a while. I'll find Belle, and we'll get started. I'll update you when and if we find something. What will you do?”

“Unfortunately, I'm going to have to take a minute and examine the scene of Blackbeard's murder. It's doubtful, but maybe there's a clue there.”

“Good luck,” Regina said, just before she left the dock.

Re-knotting her scarf, Snow turned against the breeze and came back to her daughter’s side. “Guys, I know this isn't the best time, but David called and said Adi needs to be nursed.”

“Now?” Emma sputtered. “Can't he go to my house and heat some stuff from the freezer?”

“He tried. Nothin’ doing. She won't take the bottle today. He's on his way here with her now.”

Killian had no idea something so small could be so stubborn. Who knew a four-month-old could dictate the schedule of so many adults?

“Of all the days,” Emma exhaled. “Okay, then. But I can't feed her next to a corpse.”

“The crew cabin is welcome to you, love,” Killian offered. “No dead bodies in there, currently. When you're ready, I can bring you a pillow, or blanket, whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Killian,” she said, brushing her lips against his cheek as she passed him. “I better get started with the crime scene, before they get here.”

“Wait, Swan,” he said, knitting his brows uncertainty. She would surely be upset, if she was to enter his room and sense that dagger. He had to tell her, first. “There's a reason Mim came to me about Rumpelstiltskin. You won't be happy.”

“So, you can hear the dagger too,” Killian said to Emma.

After explaining his culpability in the theft, Emma had led the way to its location, unprompted. He had opened the safe to her, readying himself for the inevitable accusations and upbraiding.

Emma did neither, rocking back on her heels slightly as she eyed the accursed weapon with distaste. “Yeah, I can. Sucks, doesn't it?”

“It's worse than the crying of the Lost Boys. What does it want of us?”

“Dunno. Trying to tempt us to use its power, corrupt us again, maybe. I’m trying not to listen very closely.”

“So,” he concluded, thinking on her explanation, “only those who have been Dark Ones can hear its call?”

Emma nodded.

Killian felt a bit ill. “Ariadne could hear it. I think it frightened her.”

 “How do you know that? When was she around the dagger?”

“When I took her through the convent. I began to hear it and followed it to the source. The little one began screaming like a banshee, so I put it away to steal later.”

“She was conceived when I was the Dark One, remember? It really isn't surprising that if the darkness was in me, she had it, too. What amazes me is that you can hear it. Your half was the hilt. Maybe it's because Excalibur fused?”

“With dark magic, who can say for sure?” Killian hesitated. “I'm sure you're upset with me for stealing it.”

“Sort of. A little,” she admitted. “But I'm almost wondering if we should keep it here, after all. I hate to say it, because it's not like I don't trust the fairies, but the convent has sort of been compromised at this point.”

“But Mim knows it's on board. She would find it eventually.”

“I could put another blood lock on the ship. It worked pretty well before,” Emma said, flicking her eyes to Blackbeard’s body. “I mean, until…”

“No. Please do not. That just makes Ariadne a target again.” If Mim had to tear his ship apart piece by piece looking for the bloody thing, then so be it, but the baby was not disposable.

“Then what should we do with it?”

Interesting she was still saying ‘we’, although they were only facing this conundrum because of him. “I suppose it can't hurt to leave it here for now. She said she'd give me time to consider her deal.”

He locked up the safe again with Emma's approval, and then took a chance at bringing up a more confrontational topic.

“You know where the crocodile is,” he said, in a factual manner.

“Yeah.” She pressed a palm into the table. “Before you ask, you know I can't say where.”

“Afraid I’ll betray you to Mim and kill him?”

Something vicious and fierce was laid bare across Emma’s face, and gone in a blink. “No, I'm afraid I'd let you. I hate him, Killian, just as much as you. Maybe even more.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he's a sniveling little coward who is incapable of making the right choice, that's why,” she said, increasing in volume. “I lost you because of him. And now he's obsessed with-”

“With what, Swan?” Killian pressed.

“Forget I said anything,” Emma insisted, crossing the cabin and arriving at the bed. “I need to check out Blackbeard, anyway.”

Pulling some gloves from her pockets, Emma smiled slightly, sliding on the hand wear before beginning her duty. “Graham would kill me for ‘contaminating’ the crime scene, even though we know who did it,” she explained. “Can’t let him down. He’s made me really procedural over the last year.”

She captured several portraits with her phone, then began inspecting the body, frowning as her work progressed. “No bruising, no blood, no visible wounds of any kind. Definitely killed with magic.”

 Killian withheld a sigh and glanced at the window. “I already told you that, Emma.”

“Yep. But now we have proof that she’s got fairy dust and is twice as dangerous.” Picking up Blackbeard's hat, Emma tilted it and gave it a good shake, and a small handful of glittering white beans spilled from one of its corners into her palm. “Magic beans. Maybe Anton can get another field planted.”

“Probably we should set some aside. The cad did say he had several children. Perhaps their mother – or mothers – can sell a few, to make ends meet, now that Blackbeard is no longer in the picture.”

“Softie,” Emma said warmly. “You’re right. We’ll save some for them. I’m sure Ariel would be willing to deliver them next time she pops in to visit.”

“I most certainly am not a’softie’, Swan.”

“Okay, Killian.”

With a look of distaste, she went on to search the corpse’s jacket and pockets. “All right. We have: a map of Storybrooke, plug of tobacco, deck of cards, a few gold coins, and a telescope.” Tossing the objects into a disorderly pile beside their owner, Emma frowned with disappointment. “Nothing to do with Mim.”

“Did you expect there to be? I'm sure they weren't kindred spirits.”

“Wasn't exactly expecting them to borrow scrunchies from each other or anything, but a clue would have been nice. Guess all that's left is to poof him into the morgue. They can do an autopsy; maybe it’ll give us a better idea of how he died and what kind of magic she used.”

Killian was about to reply when Snow poked her head into the cabin and called, “Emma, Adi is here.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“But Belle, if you're alive, how did you get down here? Why did you come?” Emma asked after Regina had excused herself and Henry, and Belle had settled in the living room sofa where Milah had been just minutes ago.

“Believe me, it wasn't by choice. I was in the convent helping with the babies, and a portal appeared. I was dragged in. Thankfully both little Neal and Robin’s baby are safe. I’m the only one who came through. I thought I was still in Storybrooke until I saw the color of the sky! I wasn’t sure what to do, so I went to the library. Rumple was there, in the elevator.” As if remembering something difficult, Belle swallowed stiffly, sliding her fur cap off her long hair. “He…he’s the one who opened the portal. Hades made him do it; tricked him, told him he was bringing a magical object from the convent. But Hades wanted me.”

Placing a teacup in her hands, Killian coaxed, “For what, love?”

“Rumple, he made a deal – Oh, years ago, long before I was born. To save Baelfire, he agreed to give up his second-born child. Somehow, Hades ended up in possession of the contract.”

A dreadful suspicion of what was coming next made Emma reach out and take Belle’s hand, squeezing it firmly.

“Emma, I am pregnant,” Belle whispered, tears sliding down her face. “And now the baby belongs to Hades.”

And Emma was unable to think of a single comforting thing to say, because she knew exactly how it felt to give up a child, and that nothing would make the pain go away. Belle didn’t even have the luxury of knowing she was giving her baby its best chance.

“Oh, Belle,” Killian said. Seating himself on the arm of the sofa, he stroked the top of her head like a child. “I am so, so very sorry. Just cry, lass. Scream, if you have to, or throw things. Curse up a storm. Don’t hold it in. It’s just you and me and Emma.”

A sob ripped from Belle’s throat, and she slammed the teacup to the floor, hot water splashing everywhere. “Not only that, he’s still the Dark One, he lied! He thinks we can be a happy family even when he’s doing all these things behind my back. I just, I just…”

For several minutes, Belle wept, shaking uncontrollably.

Leaning down near her ear, Killian began to murmur things to her, all the while rubbing her shoulder in the same repetitive pattern.

Emma gladly let him take the lead in comforting poor Belle, as he and the librarian had developed something of a friendship in the six weeks Gold had been banished from town. Not only that, but truth be told, though Mr.-I'm-Not-Sentimental would deny it, he was by far the more sensitive of the two, and could handle situations like this with a naturalness and ease that defied anything Emma could manage.

None of that, however, could keep Emma from alternately empathizing with Belle and seething at Gold on the inside.

Guiltily, she also couldn't help but wonder: if she had told Belle immediately about her husband taking back the mantle of Dark One, would this be happening right now?

“We shall find a way to save your baby - there's no need to fret. Easy, love. You can count on us,” Killian said calmingly.

“Killian, I know you mean well, but you couldn't possibly understand. You don't understand what it's like to know that your baby will be here forever, at the mercy of Hades,” Belle countered weakly.

Emma shuddered, Belle’s comment hitting closer to home than she could ever realize.

 “Maybe I'll have to get Rumple’s help,” Belle said. “He has so much power. Maybe he could use it for good, like Merlin prophesied. I don't know what other choice I have.”

Rattled, face drawn and lids lowering as he closed his eyes, Killian held his friend’s shoulder, this time in as much agony as it was comfort. “I am quite aware what Hades is capable of, Belle. But you cannot rely on the – your husband right now. I know how frightening it is, but it is that monster’s fault you and your child are in this fix right now.” His eyes found Emma, then dropped quickly to Belle again, as if he hadn’t expected Emma to be looking back at him. “Give us a chance to help you first, please. Stay with us.”

“I…All right, I will. I just don't know how I'll get my baby out of here safely.”

“Neither do I,” thought Emma.

Storybrooke

Present Day

“I'll give you some privacy,” Killian said after helping Emma and Ariadne settle in on the bunk in the crew’s quarters.

Free hand on the hem of her shirt, Emma tossed out an invitation she didn't expect him to accept. “Could you stay? I'd like some company.”

“If the lady insists,” Killian replied, and if he was uncomfortable with the proceedings, he gave no indication, sitting across from her in a nonverbal companionship that brought Emma back to when they'd first arrived in Neverland for Henry, and shared a drink to Neal.

Ariadne, still intermittently whimpering and fussing, tried to eat, but broke away in a cry that sounded pained after a couple attempts.

“Is she all right?” asked Killian, voice tight with worry. “The duchess said to watch for signs that Blackbeard injured her.”

“I don't know,” Emma replied, tugging down her shirt. Ariadne didn’t seem injured, and her eyes were as clear and sparkling as ever, without a hint of fever, but it wasn’t as though the baby could speak up and say what was wrong. “Something isn’t right, though. I’ve never heard her make a noise like that. It started when she tried to nurse…”

“Her mouth, then? Jaw?” Killian suggested, and the next thing she knew he was beside them, tracing their daughter’s chin and jawline for irregularities.

Gently, Emma worked Ariadne’s lips open and peeked into her mouth. She noticed the problem almost immediately, and was equally delighted and upset by the discovery. “Your bottom gum is swollen, kid,” she announced, kissing her right on the nose. “No wonder you refused the bottle from your grandpa. You’re growing a tooth or two. Whaddya think of that?”

Ariadne whined plaintively, making her thoughts on the news obvious.

“May I try to calm her?” Killian asked, and when Emma permitted him, took Ariadne by cradling her head with his hand, and using the flat side of his hook to support the rest of her body. “Aye, then, I'm sure it pains you, wee one; like a mouthful of razors it must feel. But it means that one day, you'll be able to eat that fish that your sweet heart was coveting just last night, and many other things, too. But for now, you must try to nurse. Your mum and I would be terribly upset, should you starve.”

Hearing his voice, Ariadne quieted to listen, even if her face was still squished up in displeasure.

“It's a shame she's too small for ice shavings,” Killian sighed. “It might do wonders to relive her. Is there nothing we can do?”

“Believe it or not, you're on the right track. They have these things called teething rings that you can freeze. I'm going to have to buy one today.” Wiping away some of Ariadne's lingering tears, Emma pondered. “I'll try feeding her one more time. If she doesn't eat, I guess we'll bring her in to Whale.”

“A whale?”

“A doctor.”

“Oh.” Thoughtfully, Killian glanced down at the baby. “I'd heard you mention the Whale before. There's a lot to learn, isn't there?” Tapping the toe of his boot against the planks of the cabin, he blurted, “I should probably read some of those baby manuals. If you'd care to loan one, that is, Swan.”

Emma’s skin tingled, and her stomach swooped from high to low. If he meant what she thought he meant…“What are you saying, Killian?”

“I just - I'm saying…” He gave her a look of fear, fear that was backed by the surety and intensity only he was capable of. The last time he'd given her a look like that was during Zelena’s first rampage, when he was desperately trying to convey his feelings. “I still don't know if I deserve this. And I was terrified I'd destroy it, if given half a chance. But after saving her this morning, I realized that maybe I could do her more good than harm. And from now on, I want to be there for her.” Leaning forward, he kissed Emma sweetly, just a brush of lips that was gone before Emma could catch it. “And you. I want to be part of your lives. If you'll have me, that is. I don't wish to presume…”

 Though Emma was exulting to hear him saying it, she dampened her excitement before replying. That Killian meant what he said, she had no doubt. He never did things halfway, particularly when having decided to commit himself. He was either all-in, investing every bit of his soul and body, or utterly apathetic. Killian Jones was many things, but even his enemies couldn't have described him as wishy-washy.

But this was her daughter, and for Ariadne's sake, she had to make it clear to Killian what he was getting into. “Of course we want you in our lives. But, Killian…before you say that, you need to understand this isn't just something you can do for a few hours a day in between your quest for Go-Rumpelstiltskin. I can't be telling her at four years old that her daddy can't be bothered to sit with her while she's got the chicken pox because he's off chasing some blood feud with her brother’s grandpa. You have to love her more than you hate him.”

“I know, Emma. She-both of you deserve nothing less. I made a choice when I told you about the dagger. I knew there was no going back.”

“It won't always be easy,” she warned. “There will be a lot more difficulties than just sore gums in the future.”

“I do love a challenge, Swan.” He smiled down at Ariadne. “I won't let her down. Not now, not when she's forty with children of her own.”

She needed no other assurances. “Then welcome to the family,” Emma said.

They sat cozily together, Emma allowing a full minute before remembering her other responsibilities. “Okay.” Taking Ariadne back from Killian, she said, “Let’s help your poor teeth so we can get you fed and on your way. Mom and dad need to get back to work.”

And idea dawned on Emma, and she grinned. “Here's something I learned from your Aunt Elsa.” Pressing a finger on Ariadne's bottom lip, she let a small spark of bluish magic fall into the baby’s mouth.

Killian jolted, and yelped, “What in the blazes was that?”

“It's okay. It's ice magic. Not enough to freeze her, of course. Just a tiny bit of chill to numb her mouth a little from the pain, so she can nurse.”

Relaxing, Killian said, “Of course.” Giving her room and privacy by returning to his seat opposite her, he added, “Time to try again, then?”

This time, Ariadne settled right in and ate, while Emma considered what nursing her was going to feel like when those teeth grew in.

Yikes.

“Swan, I have a question,” he called to her.

“Shoot.”

Killian, confused, hesitated.

“I mean, go ahead.”

“If you gave me half of your heart in the Underworld, thus reviving me, why did you think me dead?”

“Because the last I saw of you, you were pushing me back through a portal home, and Hades was seconds away from killing you again. He was about to snap your neck. For a few months I'd hoped...I thought maybe you would find a way to survive and come home to me. But weeks passed, and I finally told myself I had to accept you were gone.” And that it was my fault.

“And now it seems I made it back alive, after all.”

“Seems so. But how? Where were you this whole time?”

“That is the question of the week, isn't it?”

“It's all so confusing. I can't imagine Hades just let you go.”

“By Hades, I assume you're referring to the Underworld.”

“No, by Hades I mean the guy who runs it, unfortunately.”

“What exactly happened down there? All you've told me is that you came to retrieve me, and it didn't work. And then the Dark One’s maid credited me with something-”

“It's a really long story,” Emma evaded. There was a time and place for the rest of the story, and this was not it. “Probably one for when we've taken care of Mim and Heather.”

“Give me one thing, Swan. Just one detail.”

She wondered how he'd react if she hit him with, Oh, we might be married, no big deal. “You met Liam there. You helped his soul find peace.”

“Swan, please promise me you are telling the truth. It would be very unkind if you're fabricating events to spare my feelings.”

“Let's see. He was stuffy, stubborn, and had a really strong heart. He loved you more than anything.”

“You really did meet him, didn't you?” Killian said, nearly smiling.

They laughed. And it felt good.

Chapter Text

One Year Ago

            The Underworld

“See anything, Hook?” The queen’s silky voice rasped.

“No, Regina. And I didn't last time, either, or the time before that. Have you no patience?” Killian mumbled, never directing his gaze from the mouth of the cave. No crickets sang in the weeds surrounding them, and no owls prowled the black sky in search of prey. It was not natural; nothing about this place was.

Regina, deciding that one magic practitioner should wait behind to guard Henry and the others, while also serving as backup, had convinced Emma to stay at the house; but not until pointing out the logic of the situation, to which Emma had grumbled but reluctantly agreed.

So, while Regina, Killian and Graham were preparing to sniff about Hades’ dungeon, Emma was most likely consoling Belle and sending Henry to bed.

Killian would have vastly preferred to have Emma’s skills and company by his side, but this was Regina’s plan, and Regina was taking charge.

Since Killian’s plan to have Liam help them had backfired so horrendously, who was he to argue?

Besides, knowing Emma was not walking into a trap with him was, in itself, a comfort.

“I don't like to wait,” Regina said, bringing Killian back to the situation at hand.

“If you wish to run in there now, before the appointed time, then by all means. Have you met Cerberus? Lovely beast. I'll bet you'd like him. Judging by his sparkling personality, he might be a distant relative of yours.”

Beside him, Graham twitched a smile, which caught Killian by surprise. He hadn't thought the man had any sense of humor.

Knee grinding into the dirt as she crouched, Regina gave them both a withering glare. “We took care of that thing days ago. I'm just focused on whether the First Lady of the Underworld is going to sell us out.”

“She won't,” Killian said. “Emma believes her, and I believe Emma.”

“As do I,” chimed in Graham, who hadn’t even met Milah. Either he trusted Emma completely, or he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be contrary to Regina. Killian found himself approving of either alternative.

Rubbing her hands together to remove some pine needles and soil, Regina replied, “So you say. Yet, Milah has one of the nicest homes in this neighborhood. And you know how I got the best place back in Storybrooke? It sure wasn't through a real estate agent. It was through Dark Magic. You're fooling yourself if you think there isn't something going on there.”

“What are you saying?”

“Don't you think it's possible they're lovers?”

Killian found himself more doubtful than insulted, which made him believe his intuition was based on logic more than emotion.

Graham grunted quietly. “Not that I know him well or anything, but Hades doesn't seem the type to dote on a lover.”

“I agree with the huntsman. It's very unlikely.”

“Oh, you never heard of Persephone? Or are you just miffed at the thought you might have been replaced? You moved on, why shouldn't she?”

“I would have no issue if she did, but Milah has standards.”

“Of course. Because you’re the gold standard. Right.”

Regina used to have a talent for sussing out people’s most cherished relationships and holding it against them, and it seemed she hadn’t lost her touch.

She was right. He'd nearly bloody well encouraged Milah to leave with him, a move that ripped her from her son and culminated in her death.

“Stop, please. I hear something,” reported Graham, canting his head as he listened. All Killian could hear was the wind wailing through thin tree boughs; unsettling perhaps, but not noteworthy.

“Hear what? Graham, this isn't the time for your instincts,” Regina echoed Killian’s thoughts, perhaps more patiently than he would have.

“It's not an instinct. You forget, I know the sounds of the forest; even an imitation of a forest, such as this. When something doesn't belong, I notice. There was something…and not a normal animal, either beast or human…waiting near the cave entrance. It left just now.”

“What kind of something,” Killian pressed. He wasn't…frightened, merely cautious.

Days spent being ripped apart by three fanged, relentless mouths did that to a man.

“I don't know. But it was big.” Shifting his weight, Graham rested his palm against the nearest tree trunk. “Whatever it was, it's gone. I want to get a closer look.”

Killian grabbed the man’s shoulder. Emma would be devastated if he let something happen to her old friend. “I told Milah midnight. We go too soon, it'll get us all killed. Wait another half hour or so,” he said, checking the position of the stars. “Aye, mate?”

Checking her timepiece, Regina said, “Twenty minutes, actually. It's 11:40.”

When Killian scoffed, she protested, “What? Some of us wear watches. It's convenient, and certainly more accurate than calculating with the sky.”

Ignoring her, Killian shared a look with Graham, who had reluctantly remained in his hiding spot behind the tree.

“You'll let us know if that…thing…comes back, yes?”

  Rubbing his palm along his beard in thought, Graham replied, “Of course, if I hear it coming. I got the sense, though, if it didn't want to be noticed, it wouldn't.”

“There's a cheerful thought,” Killian muttered.

Oh, to be curled on the couch at home in Storybrooke with Swan, in front of a roaring fire with hot buttered rum for himself, and cocoa for Emma. He would play with her feet through her socks and suggest the most ridiculous names he could think of for the baby, to which she would roll her eyes and eventually laugh, pressing herself closer to him.

His happy imaginings passed the time so quickly, he was momentarily confused when Regina breathed, “It’s midnight.”

Without a thought, Killian led the way, Regina and Graham rushing to keep pace with him.

“Are we under some sort of time restriction?” Regina puffed, tramping over sticks that snapped loudly.

Graham picked his way with care, as any hunter would: deftly avoiding pitfalls and hazards, light on his feet and sensitive to his surroundings. Not even a leaf crunched under his feet.

Killian slowed, hoping to follow the other man’s example, but the cold darkness limited his abilities. The sea was his environment; this was Graham's.

Besides, Regina, who clearly didn't care about stealth, was making enough noise for the three of them already.

Somehow, she was able to tell when Killian glared at her, even though the veil of night was between them, and she wasn't directly facing him. “What? If I'm right, they already know we're coming. I'd rather have the confrontation out in the open, as opposed to that cave. Too many walls we could get backed into.”

Sometimes he forgot how strategic Regina could be, when she wanted to.

“Yes, Your Majesty, maybe so; but how will we hear them coming?” Graham countered, with that subtle bite in his tone he frequantly used to address Regina.

“Fair enough,” Regina admitted, slowing as the great maw of the cave loomed before them. “Huh. Seems we made it this far. Maybe there's hope for Milah yet."

Killian stopped beside her, and Graham paused at her other side.

The moist, hollowed out sides waited patiently, like a great dragon sleeping with its jaws open, just waiting for somebody stupid enough to waltz into its stomach.

“Well,” Regina said, watching a few drips of condensation fall from the ceiling. “Think Hades still has those barriers to keep out the living?”

“Would it surprise you if he did?” Killian asked rhetorically.

“Good thing Rumple had a trick for that. Graham, I believe you're familiar with this tactic, from when you went with him and Emma earlier?” Regina held out her hands expectantly.

Graham hesitated, and even in the moonlight Killian could see his discomfort and reluctance to have any part of Regina touching him. Killian didn't have any firm grasp of their history, but the way the man was squirming afforded him several guesses.

Clasping one of the queen’s hands, Killian offered the man a tight-lipped smile. “Let's go, mate, aye? Emma needs us.” Maybe he would have been enough to help Regina through on his own, but there was no need to take a chance.

He was almost disappointed when Graham grabbed Regina’s hand with a start.

Heroes weren't supposed to manipulate.

Heroes were supposed to inspire.

“All right boys, here we go,” Regina muttered.

“Grandma, you take my bed,” Henry insisted, digging through his closet and eventually producing a giant roll of insulated fabric. “My sleeping bag is really high quality. Robin got it for when I camp out with the Merry Men. Not that he really lives out there anymore.”

“Henry, that's very sweet; but no, I couldn't possibly,” Belle protested. “I can take the sleeping bag. I'll be quite fine.”

“No way!” Henry argued right back. “You're going to have a baby. You can't sleep on the floor. I'm a teenager; I can fall asleep anywhere, remember?”

Glancing at the sleeping bag, as if pondering a night on the hardwood, Belle winced. Still, she tried to resist. “I'm sure your mother would rather you-”

In the doorway, Emma quickly shook her head. Henry, taking one of the two pillows from the bed, thankfully didn't see.

Belle did. “W-well, thank you for your generosity, Henry. You've, uh, saved this grandma’s back.”

For some reason, this cracked Henry up. He laughed as he gathered his sleep pants and shirt, disappearing into the bathroom. “I'll be out in a minute. Grandma. I'm going to set up my sleeping bag downstairs, by the fold-out bed Robin and Mom are using. Don't let mom step on me when she comes back home.”

Once he'd closed the door, Emma gave Belle a thankful little nod. “Thanks for letting him do that,” she whispered. “He's, um, feeling a little hopeless and useless right now, I think. Expecting things of himself that no one could achieve. I think offering you this, small as it seems, might help him more than it helps you. So, thanks for agreeing.”

Vacantly, Belle stared at the wall, thin shoulders visibly tense through her sheer sleeves. “He's not the only one feeling hopeless.” Dragging her feet, she went to the bed and sat, smiling sadly as she traced the plain black stripes on the comforter. “He's grown up, hasn't he? No more aliens or dinosaurs on his sheets.”

Emma thought of Henry's life back during the first year she'd known him, and halfway doubted Regina would have encouraged such whimsical bedding in those days, even had it been Henry's style. “To be honest, I don't know that he ever had anything like that, but I get what you mean. Yeah, he's definitely not a little kid anymore.”

“Do you think you'd ever want another?”

Emma turned sharply, alertly. How had Belle found out? The only other person she’d talked to was Gold, and that could only spell disaster.

Belle, who had been fluffing the remaining pillow, stopped, ashamed. “I'm sorry. That was terribly insensitive of me, given the circumstances with Killian. Pretend I didn't say that, okay?”

“No, it's fine. I do. When all of us are home, and out of danger, I'd love to have a baby.” She could have altered her sentence by just a few words, and divulged that the theoretical baby was already on its way, but Belle wasn't asking for Emma's sake. She was asking for her own.

Emma knew she could start asking questions, to try and draw out Belle.

Back in the Phoenix prison, there had been several well-intentioned guards and inmates who tried to do the same thing. Do you want to have a boy, or a girl? What names do you like? Sonogram today; you excited? I can knit! Tell you what, young lady, I'll make your baby a hat. Tell me what color you want, hon?

 It had been like kick after kick when she was already on the ground, hearing all the platitudes while knowing she wasn't able to keep Henry. So now she waited, and when (and if) Belle wanted to talk about the baby that had belonged to someone else since before she even knew it existed, Emma would listen. But she wouldn't push or demand.

“I was thinking…” Belle crossed her arms and rested them on her legs. “The contract can't be destroyed. It is indestructible and binding. Rumple made that clear. But I was thinking, it can be altered.” Squaring her jaw, she fired out her next words. “The fact that Hades transferred it to himself in the first place is proof. If there is a way to change the names on that contract, do you think...Would you consider taking my baby in Hades’ stead?”

As confidently as she had started, Belle’s voice quivered at the very end of her question.

For her part, Emma could only gape in astonishment, and she began to feel nauseous again. Not over the idea of fostering Belle’s baby, but at the thought of Belle being driven to that kind of desperation, and losing her child.

“Snow and David have their own son to worry about, and Regina will be busy helping raise Robin’s baby, I'm sure. So, can you help me? Please? You're one of the few people I'd trust with my baby.”

The bathroom door opened, and Henry emerged, cheerful and completely oblivious, clad in his pajamas. “Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Belle,” he said, nearly toppling a lamp as he hoisted his sleeping bag over his shoulder. “I'll be downstairs.”

“Night, kid.” Emma shut the door behind him as he left, then marched over to Belle and gave her shoulder a shake. “It's not gonna come to that. Hear me?” she hissed. “This baby is yours, and we're fighting for it.”

“Just-Please, Emma? As a…A last resort kind of thing?”

To deny that pleading look on Belles face was something Emma didn't have the strength to do. “All right, yes, of course I will, if it’ll give you peace of mind.”

What choice did she have?

What choice did either of them have?

Storybrooke

Present Day

Emma rounded a corner in the hospital, ignoring the way the bright overhead lights bounced off the polished floor and burned into her retinas. The building felt stiflingly hot.

In her arms, Ariadne sleepily leaned her head against Emma's neck, occasionally making small, meaningless sounds. Her inquisitive fingers found the chain holding Killian’s ring, and she tugged it, causing the necklace to dig into Emma’s throat.

Emma didn’t notice, hastening through the beige and blue themed halls, past nurses and elevators and desks, the sights, sounds, and smells of the hospital barely registering.

Killian was right behind her, with Mary Margaret, David, and Neal at the back of the line.

“Slow down, Emma! Graham will still be there,” David called out, his shoes squeaking loudly as Emma took a sharp turn, and he altered his course to follow.

Minutes after nursing Ariadne on the Jolly, Emma had received a call from Mother Superior, saying she'd at last diagnosed Graham's condition, but that Emma should come as soon as possible.

Collecting her family, Emma had slapped a siren to the top of David's pickup and, with no other options, jumped in the bed of the truck with her mother and Killian while the babies rode in the crowded cab with David.

“I know, Dad; it's just that I got a bad feeling from Mother Superior that something’s-”

 “Something’s what?” asked Blue, and Emma realized with a jolt that the fairy was waiting for them in that very hallway, sitting in an armchair that had been pushed into a small alcove designed for visitors. Behind her, a decades-old, muted tube tv was switched to a news channel, splashing color into the dimly lit area.

“…Wrong,” Emma finished, after halting her headlong dash. “Blue, what are you doing here? I thought you were with Graham. We were headed to his room.” She handed Ariadne to Killian, who received her delightedly, contorting his face in exaggerated shapes, to the baby's great amusement.

“I was. But he can still hear what we are saying in his state, and I didn't want to frighten him. Therefore, I came out here to talk to you when you arrived. Not to worry; Lily's still with him.”

“So. It's bad,” Emma deduced, steeling her heart for the worst.

Mary Margaret leaned against David, face pale and concerned. Neal, in his father’s arms, quietly said, “Mama?” somehow sensing something was wrong.

“I'm afraid so,” Mother Superior disclosed. “He has been struck with the Curse of Decay.”

To Emma, that sounded fairly self-explanatory, not to mention harrowing, but she pressed for details. “Okay. What does it do? How do we break it?”

“It is a rarely-used spell. Similar to a sleeping curse – at the beginning, anyway - but simpler to enact. The victim does not have to be compliant.”

“Then why is it so rarely used?”

“Because it gets messy. Very messy. You see, Graham is not asleep. When the curse is cast, the victim stays in a paralysis for some time; anywhere from a few hours to several days. During this time, the victim is inundated with repeated hallucinations. These can take the form of memories, or their deepest, repressed fears. Their adrenaline will spike, time and again, and they gradually lose their self-control and sanity. Eventually, they will rise, little more a husk of the person they were, and try to destroy anything and everything in their path in the search for the one who cursed them.”

David, patting Neal’s back soothingly, said, “That seems a bit dangerous to the one who casts the curse.”

“Hence, why it's very uncommon. I can't think what Heather meant to accomplish.”

“What will happen to Graham?” Emma asked.

“Eventually the shock to his system will overload his body. He will die, most likely of cardiac arrest. It's a very physical curse, unfortunately.”

An orderly wheeled by with a squeaky supply cart, and the bitter scent of antiseptic stung Emma's nostrils. It made her feel lightheaded and scattered.

“No. No, no, no we're not losing Graham again. Just, no.” He had already been stuck in the Underworld for years. He didn’t deserve the punishment of going there all over again. “How do we reverse it?” she asked, and Blue tilted her head at Emma's intensity.

“Only the most powerful of magic. I fear nothing short of love can break it.”

Emma's heart sank. Because she loved Graham; she did. Everyone in town did. Graham was easy to love.

But she didn't Love him. Not with the kind of Love magic was made of.

“There has to be another way,” she argued, knowing that Blue wasn't trying to fight with her. Blue was being honest.

There was a stilted silence as the small group passed uncertain glances to one another.

Mary Margaret smiled brightly. “Of course there will be. Let's go see him.”

With Emma in the lead, they meandered slowly towards Graham's room, none of them eager to see the man on his deathbed.

Emma paused when she caught a female voice coming from the room, friendly and casual, yet at the same time serious.

“Yeah, so then I hopped on a bus and this old man started telling me my true history. The weird thing was, it didn't take much convincing to get me to believe it, though I was old enough that it should've. Since then, I've always felt like I had no control over my destiny.”

Lily.

Emma hesitated, not sure how to proceed without embarrassing the woman, and Lily continued.

“I kind of heard your story. Sorry. You know how rumors go around. How you saved Snow White, and after that you didn't really get a choice in your destiny, either. But you changed that. You came back, and told destiny to shove it. Which was pretty awesome to someone like me. So, you gotta keep fighting, okay? You can't let this curse decide for you.”

Deciding it was time to make their presence known, Emma rapped on the open door.

Lily, seated beside the hospital bed, jumped slightly in her chair, then smiled when she saw Emma. “Oh. Hey, you made it. Did Blue tell you the news?”

Emma's companions filtered into the room one by one; silent, uncertain concern blanketing their small huddle as they stood by.

Beside Lily, Graham's heart monitor was beeping - much more rapidly than it should have, even to Emma’s untrained ear. The adrenaline was already seeping into his system.

Emma couldn't help but wonder what he was seeing, deep in the grasp of the curse. What were his fears?

Putting herself back on track, Emma said, “News? About Graham? Yeah.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, Lily said, relieved, “Then you’re here to fix him. Good. Need me to move?” She began to vacate her chair.

“Lily, I…I don’t know if I can fix him,” Emma confessed, looking down at the handsome face of her deputy with sorrow.

Lily fixed her with an expression of bewildered frustration. “But you're the savior. And now that we know what's wrong, you can save him. Right?”

Killian drifted closer to Emma, his presence a small comfort as she tried to explain. “I wish it could work that way, Lily. I really do.”

“You're willing to just let him die?” Lily asked in disbelief.

A cry rang through the room as Ariadne screeched wildly, to which Killian immediately responded, rocking her gently. “She doesn’t respond well to Dark Magic,” he explained to the room. “She’s all right.”

Emma, taking one more glance at Graham, knit her hands together. “No, Lily, I’m not going to let him die.”

Summoning all her power, imagining she was drawing a bow, she pictured Graham as the target and, lifting her hands, splayed her fingers and let loose with all she had.

Like the currents in a stream, tendrils of bright, warm magic spun across the room, rich and strong. They enveloped Graham, wrapping him in a cocoon of energy.

Emma imagined him as locked in a compartment, inaccessible to the rest of them. She bent her power to her will, trying to visualize it as the key that would free him. 

Pouring every bit of energy she had into her magic, Emma didn’t let up, even when she felt sweat break out on her body and her arms began to shake.

“Emma?” She distantly heard Killian calling her, worried, but kept her focus on her undertaking.

“Ms. Swan, you must stop. You know it won’t work!” Blue cautioned, and without warning, Emma’s leg buckled and she fell to her knees, panting.

“Graham?” Emma rasped, and Killian crouched beside her, shifting Ariadne to his other arm so he could skim his hand along her back.

“You all right, Swan?”

Lifting her head, she glanced at the bed and saw Graham still lying there, eyes shut, the rapid pulse of the monitor still beeping.

She had given it everything, and her friend hadn’t so much as twitched.

Wishing for nothing more than to bury her face in Killian’s shoulder and cry, Emma made herself nod.

But Killian knew better. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

       Lifting her chin, he warmed her with an expression of unhindered tenderness. Then, he kissed her forehead, lingering against her for a few precious moments. Moments where everything felt safe and right.

       What happened next defied anything Emma would have believed.

       Ariadne stopped fussing, hiccoughed once, and then a light, so bright it was blinding, filled every crevice of the room, causing shouts and cries of alarm.

       Emma ducked against Killian, and she felt his arm go around her, cradling the back of her head, holding her close, with Ariadne tucked protectively between them.

       She heard glass shattering as lightbulbs popped, and frantically leaned over the baby even more than she already was as broken pieces of light fixtures rained down on them.

       After the room grew quiet, Emma lifted her head and opened her eyes, stunned.

       The room was dark, save for the square of sunshine beating through the window. A broken set of blinds had fallen on Lily’s shoulders, which she quickly shrugged off. Graham’s monitor was destroyed, screen cracked. The furniture had all slid several inches across the floor.

       Briefly, Emma met Lily’s frightened, incredulous eyes.

       “What. Was. That?” Mary Margaret asked, and Neal, shocked out of his fright at the sound of his mother’s voice, began to sob.

       “David, take him out of the room until we figure this out, please,” Mary Margaret instructed, leaning over her husband’s arms to give her son a little peck. “It’s all right, honey! You’re safe. Mommy is going to figure this out.”

       “We’ll be waiting,” David said, taking one last look around the room. “Unreal,” he said, half admiring, half alarmed, then went out the door.

        “Emma, is Adi…” Killian began, and they both got to their feet, moving towards the light source.

       Once in the bright patch of sunshine, Emma could see Ariadne was unaffected; chirping merrily while visually tracking dust particles that were falling through the beam of light.

       “She’s all right.”

       “How peculiar,” Mother Superior commented, sweeping a hand over her hair as if searching to see if a lock had dared to slip free from its confines. “Emma, was that you?”

       “No, it-”

       Emma had just begun to reply when Graham began to stir in his bed.

       Gasping inaudibly, Emma watched as he slowly turned his head, toward the light, and took in his bedside sentinel.

       “Lily?” he asked, then smiled.

       The Underworld

       One Year Ago

       “This cave smells terrible,” complained Regina softly as she, Graham, and Killian stole through the cave.

       Killian would have hushed her - if he didn’t happen to fully agree.

       He tried to breathe through his mouth as the rank scent soaked into him, but it barely helped. He could almost taste the bloody stench.

       Emma would probably kick him straight out of bed upon his return, and he wouldn’t blame her. He’d probably have to have several showers before the smell had washed away completely.

       “Hook. Did the catacombs always reek like this when you were in here?” Regina whispered as they picked their way through the rocky area, flashlights beams bouncing over surfaces.

       “No.”

       Graham seemed the least affected, stopping here and there to wipe sludge off the cave wall, or inspect the rocky ground beneath them.

       “That lichen, mate?” Killian questioned at one point as Graham took some of the wall muck and rubbed it between his gloved fingers.

       “Not like any I’ve seen before,” was the disquieting response. Crouching, Graham pointed to the uneven terrain with his flashlight. “See this wet spot here? There’s an entire path of water drops just like this one, splattered from far back in the cave, all the way up to the entrance.”

       Regina reached for the damp ground with two fingers, as though by touching it the mystery could be solved, but Graham, dropping his flashlight, darted out to grab her wrist.

       Swiftly but softly, he said, “You don’t want to do that, Your Highness. Messing with the nearest water source might cost you more than you’re bargaining for.” Letting her go, he retrieved his light.

       “River of Lost Souls? Yeah, we heard of it,” Regina said, withdrawing from the drying spot and aiming her flashlight at the ceiling. “You know how stalactites are formed, right? It’s probably nothing. All the same, thank you.”

       “It didn’t drip from the cave, Regina,” Graham said, light playing over his right hand. “That substance on the walls? Look what it did to my glove.”

       Right in the areas where he’d been handling the wall slime, the leather of his glove now boasted uneven holes, as though it had been burned away. Killian could see the undamaged skin of his fingers peeking through what was left of the material.

       “You mean to say,” Killian began, “something went for a swim in Hades’ river, then walked to the mouth of the cave, then left again, secreting acidic fluids on the wall as it went?”

       “Something like that.”

       “Does this mean Hades has another pet?” Regina asked, alarmed.

       “I’m saying for now, don’t touch anything,” Graham advised, eyes narrow. “And we should keep quiet.”

       Storybrooke

       Present Day

       “Graham?” Lily asked in shock. “You’re awake?”

       Wiping a hand over his face with a shudder, Graham said, “Awake? Ev-Everything I was seeing was just a dream?”

       “Yeah, kind of,” Lily said. “How are you feeling?”

       “I’ve been better,” Graham said hoarsely, but presented one of his usual, if weak, grins. “I heard you talking to me. Even with all I was seeing, it…it helped. Thank you.”

       Lily shrugged as if it was of no consequence, but was obviously pleased.

       “Why are the lights out? Where am I?”

       Turning his head, Graham finally noticed the others. “Emma? Snow?”

       “Hey, partner,” Emma smiled. “You’re in the hospital. You were cursed, back in the station.” Stepping forward, she pushed some hair away from his forehead. His skin was clammy to the touch. “Should I call Whale?”

       “No, I…I don’t think so.” Taking a few deep breaths, Graham then said, “Cursed?”

       “Yeah. There’s a fairy working with Mim.”

       Clutching fistfuls of his blanket, he frowned. “But if I was cursed, how was it broken?”

       “I’m still not sure,” Emma said. “I was trying to use my magic, and it wasn’t working. Then there was this huge blast of light that knocked out the power, and shifted the whole room-”

       “It was the child,” Mother Superior broke in, walking to Killian and peering in wonder at Ariadne as though she was a fascinating display at a museum. “Emma, you didn’t tell me your daughter had magic.”

       Killian leaned away from Blue, covering the back of the baby’s head with his hand. Emma wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

       Hastening to explain, Emma said, “I didn’t know until a few days ago. And it didn’t seem like a priority at the time…Wait, you’re saying my daughter did this?” Emma gestured to the general disarray of the room. A show of power like that…

       “She broke a curse without a kiss of True Love, yes,” Mother Superior supplied.

       “But that’s…”

       “Impossible. I know.” Head craning, the fairy attempted to get a better look at Ariadne. “Captain, you said the presence of dark magic unsettles her? Can you give me an example?”

       Killian, seeming to not care for Blue’s inquisitiveness regarding his baby, snarled, “Bugger off. It’s none of your business. And stop looking at her like she’s a specimen you want to study.”

       “I only wish to help her,” Blue soothed, appearing anxious. “This is unprecedented. She could end up harming herself. You have no idea what you’re dealing with, and-”

       “It seems neither do you,” Killian said shortly. “I have yet to see you do anything truly useful. Until you do, I see no need to turn her over to you.”

       Sighing, Mother Superior appealed to Emma. “I’m not asking to take the girl, by any means. But for everyone’s safety, she should be evaluated sometime in the future.”

       “Yeah, maybe,” Emma deflected. It would be nice to know what to prepare for when raising a baby with magic, and she had even planned to consult Mother Superior about it; but at the same time, she didn’t like the sound of an ‘evaluation’ any more than Killian. Ariadne was a baby, not a spectacle to be looked at under a microscope.

       “Ariadne woke me up?” Graham asked, lifting himself to a sitting position. Emma noticed how drained he seemed, ghostly white and somehow thinner, despite the short amount of time he’d been under the curse.

       But he held out his hands towards Ariadne hopefully, and Killian eventually placed her in his arms, hovering nearby.  

       Emma knew what he was thinking. Killian didn’t take anything for granted, especially where magic was concerned. He wanted to be on hand in case the curse hadn’t really broken, and Graham was moments away from snapping.

       “Thank you, wee one,” Graham crooned. “I don’t know how you did it, but you are a little hero aren’t you?”

       Ariadne vocalized happily and grabbed his chin, which made Emma, Lily, and Mary Margaret laugh.

       At that moment, the door flew open and Whale flew in, perturbed. “What happened? Half of my hospital just lost power. We’re on generators. Are we under attack again?”

       He stopped when he noticed the shattered bulbs and broken blinds.

       Emma diplomatically stepped forward. “That was us, Doctor. We just broke a curse. I can pay for the repairs.” Technically, it was her kid’s fault, after all.

       Rolling his eyes, Whale said, “Why am I not surprised. It’s always your family at the center of these things. You don’t have any idea how much hospital equipment costs, do you? Forget it. The hospital has insurance. Though I have no idea how we’ll claim ‘curse breaking’.” Taking his stethoscope from his neck, the doctor pushed past the visitors. “Well, seeing as I’m already here, and Humbert has decided to join us, I had better take a look at him. In the dark. With no monitors.”

       Under her breath, Lily said, “With that hair, I’m pretty sure you could see for a mile or more in the Mariana Trench.”

       “Don’t you have the biting wit?” Whale retorted, still cross over the damage. “No need for jealousy. I’ll give you the name of my hairdresser.”

       “Who, Clorox?” Lily shot back.

       Graham stifled a chuckle by clearing his throat, and motioned to Killian. “Jones? Take Adi for me?”

       Collecting the baby, Killian stepped back to let Whale do his work.

       As the doctor examined Graham, Graham nervously reached out and found Lily’s hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze.

       Emma observed, not having previously known that hospitals made Graham uneasy. At least when he was the patient. Poor guy.

       Several minutes went by as Whale conducted his evaluation. Killian passed the time by playing with Ariadne, while Mary Margaret fretted and Blue watched with compassion. Emma held her breath, and Lily stayed in her chair, offering an encouraging word here and there.

       At last, Whale pronounced, “His vitals seem okay. But his body’s been through a lot of stress. I’d like to keep him for observation today.” He unhooked Graham from the broken heart monitor. “We’ll see about getting you to a room that has power.”

       “What? No, I’m good,” Graham insisted. “I’m ready to get back out there. It was just some freaky visions. I can handle it.”

       Frowning as his stethoscope got stuck on his i.d. badge, Whale preoccupied himself with untangling the two. “Your doctor says no. I’ll have a nurse bring in some water, and if you can handle that, we’ll see about some food.” Crossing the room, he opened the door to leave.

       “Emma and David need me,” Graham said, taking his hand from Lily’s and grabbing the bed railing as if he meant to get up.

       “Judging by the state of this room, I’d say they’re plenty capable of handling themselves,” Whale pointed out. “Stay put. Sheriff I trust you’ll give him this order?” With that, he closed the door.

       “Graham,” Emma began.

       “Emma, I know what you’re going to say, but I’m fine. I’m ready, and I want a crack at these fairies. Come on, did Snow go on bed rest after Charming woke her up?”

       “Hey, don’t bring me into this, mister,” Mary Margaret scolded mildly. “You heard the doctor.”

       Sitting on the edge of the bed, Emma met Graham’s eyes in the half-light. “It wasn’t a sleeping curse, Graham. It’s one that wreaked havoc on your system. I get you don’t want to be here. I wouldn’t want to be, either. But right now, recovering is your duty.”

       Graham slit his eyes. “You’re thinking about cuffing me to the bed right now, aren’t you?”

       Out of context, it would have sounded salacious, but he spoke of it in a completely matter-of-fact way, free of any insinuation.

       “Do I need to?”

       Letting his head fall back, Graham stared unhappily at the ceiling. “No. I’ll stay.”

       Relieved, Emma patted his knee. “Thanks. I’ll leave Lily here with you, in case Heather tries to attack again.”

       And to keep the deputy in the hospital, but that was beside the point.

       “Uh, you will?” Lily asked.

       “If you’re okay with it.” Emma told her, trying not to groan. Being a wing-woman was harder than she’d expected. Lily wasn’t pulling her weight at all.

       Reaching into her back pocket, Emma pulled out a deck of cards, and threw them underhand towards Lily, who flinched but caught them. “Graham’s a hustler at Go Fish. I’d suggest TV, but you probably won’t get to watch until he gets moved to a new room.”

       “Where did you get cards?” Graham wondered, eyeing the deck. The designs on it made it clear they were from the Enchanted Forest.

       Emma shrugged. “The Jolly Roger.” True enough. What Graham didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and he didn’t have to know he was playing with evidence.

       “Oh, all right, Emma; we’ll stay here,” Lily said, as if suddenly coming to the realization she was about to spend time one-on-one with a conscious Graham. She began shuffling the deck.

       “Glad that’s settled,” Mary Margaret commented. “Graham, so happy you’re awake. But we should be going.”

       Emma grasped her husband’s arm, as Killian was still working at making Ariadne smile, and not fully paying attention to what was going on around him. “Hey. We’re heading out. You ready?”

       “Of course, love. Where are we going?”

       The truth was, Emma wasn’t entirely sure. “Mim’s goals haven’t changed. She still wants revenge on Blue.”

       Mother Superior nodded gravely, but didn’t remark on Emma’s statement.

       “And to do it, she needs Gold. For some purpose. We could, uh, set up a perimeter or two. Try to close in on her.”

       Graham nodded, as if proud of her. “If you need me to, I can help coordinate them from here.”

       A timid knock sounded on the door, and each person stopped what they were doing to stare.

       “Come in,” Emma said finally, when the person on the other side of the door made no move to open it.

       Astrid, flushed tumbled into the room uncoordinatedly, and Blue caught her arm.

       “Nova, what has gotten into you?”

       Out of breath, Astrid hurried to explain. “I came as soon as I could. Blue, it’s Mim’s wings. They’re not at the convent anymore. Sister Halley – Gray - stole them. I saw her do it. I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t; she had dust.”

       Emma kept herself from uttering an expletive that would make her mother blush, suddenly unspeakably relieved they’d brought Graham to the hospital instead of the convent. Fairies were joining Mim at a swiftly growing rate.

       Mother Superior absorbed this news, face held rigorously still. Emma wanted to comfort her, but right then she had to be Emma the Sheriff.

       “Okay. Astrid, tell me everything you remember,” Emma instructed calmly.

Chapter Text

The Underworld

       One Year Ago

       The cave continued to be empty; a gloomy, mournful expanse of drab colors sometimes illuminated by their flashlights. The three stayed mostly silent, judiciously picking their way over dark spots of water, and avoiding brushing against the poison-coated walls.

       The smell, however, could not be avoided. If anything, it grew more pungent the deeper they went into the cave.

       Then, dead ahead, Killian spotted a mellow glow that was decidedly not projected by their flashlights.

A faint light from a torch had appeared, its soft burn casting a lumbering, large shadow over the walls and ground. It slowly lurched forward, progressing along the cave paths toward them.

       Killian stilled, spreading out his arms to hold back Graham and Regina.

       The shadow magnified as it grew nearer, spreading like a dark blanket, unnatural shapes clashing with the more organic surfaces of the cave.

       “We need to find a side tunnel,” Graham whispered urgently, but then the torch drew close enough that they could see its source.

       A woman, not yet elderly but not young, hunched over a giant wheelbarrow of grain, was slowly making her way through the cave. She wavered every few steps due to the load that was far too heavy for her to manage easily. The torch glinted in an iron holder on the side of the cart.

       Killian couldn’t help but think how easily a stray spark could make the entire thing combust; almost as if that was what the person who had designed it had hoped for…

       Knowing Hades, it wouldn’t shock him.

       “Mother?” Regina sobbed hands coming to her face as she recognized the figure, and ran forward to embrace the lowly, weary woman.

       “Oh, Regina,” cried Cora, easing her burden to the ground and allowing her daughter into her waiting arms. “Why haven’t you left this place?”

       Killian and Graham joined the reunion at a respectful distance, allowing the mother and daughter a semi-private moment together.

       Brushing some dull, unwashed hair from Cora’s face, Regina dismissed her mother’s concerns with one of her own. “I can’t yet. Soon. Oh, mother, what has he done to you?” Tears ran down Regina’s cheeks, unchecked.

       “Made my worst nightmare come true,” Cora said, pausing to cough drily. She seemed in far worse condition than when Killian had seen her last. Hades took his toll, indeed. “He will do the same to you if you don’t leave.”

       “Cora,” Killian pressed, gauging the witch’s receptiveness to questioning. “Did something come this way earlier? Something…large?” As far as descriptions went, he was aware of how stupid it sounded, but it was better than saying ‘stinky’.

       Loosening her hold on Regina, Cora sent him a brittle glare for interrupting. “You’re speaking of the Hydra.”

       “Hydra,” Regina repeated. “I’ve heard that word before.”

       “I should hope so, after all the hours I devoted to plucking you from the back of a horse and getting you to concentrate on your studies,” Cora said with sharp disapproval. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

       So much for the loving reunion.

       “Well, I haven’t a royal education,” Graham joked lightly. “Maybe you could enlighten me?”

       “It’s a mythical – or thought to be mythical - creature,” Regina explained. “It serpentine, with multiple heads, but that’s all I can recall.”

“Indeed,” Killian attested. “As well as having deadly, poisonous skin and blood, it is also said to have quite a potent smell.” He berated himself inwardly for not recognizing the clues sooner.

“That would explain a lot. I’m thinking it’s time to leave,” Graham decided, warily swiveling his head around.

       “No need,” Cora assured them, rubbing her shoulder with a slight cringe. Killian didn’t blame her. She probably hadn’t done any manual labor in decades, much less worked loads that would have been a struggle for a person with twice her strength. Though Killian couldn’t find it in him to feel much sympathy for Cora, he did rather admire her haughty refusal to complain.

       They might make you bleed, but you don’t have to show it.

The Queen of Hearts went on to explain, “I saw Milah use food as bait to coax it away from the caves and back into the water. It loves the water; it will stay there until Hades calls it out again. It used to guard the waters leading to the Underworld, until Hercules slew it as one of his labors, and it ended up here. Hades let it roam free in the rivers until Cerberus was killed, and then decided to call it into service. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

That was it.

The confirmation he had been afraid to hope for. How could he ever have doubted Milah, who had risked her life for him, who had saved his heart from Rumpelstiltskin so long ago? Who was risking Hades’ ire even now?

Ashamed and yet newly hopeful, he listened as Regina gave an abbreviated nod and said, “Then it seems Milah is trustworthy after all. She’s distracted Hades’ latest guard dog. I say we take advantage of it. Mother, where is his throne room?”

       “How do you know about his throne room?” Cora asked stiffly.

        “Milah mentioned it when she left us last,” said Killian, assessing their options. The best scenario, of course, was that Cora knew where the lair was located, and could simply lead them there; if not, he would have to recreate the path from memory. Though he’d had the ‘honor’ of visiting Hades’ throne room before, most of the time spent in these caverns, he’d been barely conscious.

       He wasn’t feeling particularly encouraged at the idea of Cora’s help, so when Cora simply shrugged and offered a curt, “I do not know where it is,” he was disappointed but willing to accept it.

       Regina was not. “Don’t lie, mother. You have to take us there.”

       “It’s too dangerous, Regina,” Cora scolded, sounding like she was rebuking a child for climbing a tree. “You can’t win against Hades.”

       “Maybe we’re not trying to. Maybe we’re just trying to get out of the Underworld, like you want me to,” Regina lied easily.

       “Darling, there’s nothing in that lair that can help you escape. Now please, leave here before he catches you.”

       “Listen, mother,” Regina ordered. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to take us to the throne room, we’re going to find some evidence of whatever it was Hades was trying to have Hook’s brother hide, and I’m going to free you. Then, you and I are going to find your unfinished business, and after that you’ll be able to move on. Or we can all stand here and get eaten by a snake-headed monster. Your choice.”

       Cora stared at her daughter, as if not sure whether she should be outraged or proud. “Fine. Follow me, if you’re so determined to put yourselves in danger.”

       Storybrooke

       Present Day

       “There must be a connection or pattern between Heather and Halley,” Emma mused, kicking one of her feet over the other as she sat on the hard hospital chair. “Something we’re missing.” She sipped at a coffee David had brought her from the generator-powered cafeteria, hoping it would kick her brain into gear; but surrounded by semidarkness, in a room that was rapidly growing stuffy due to lack of circulating air, it was harder than anticipated.

       In any case, Astrid’s tale had gleaned nothing beyond what she’d already told them, and Emma was growing tired of hearing about incidents that the savior should have stopped long before they happened.

       A lock of hair fell from one of Blue’s bobby pin, and she carelessly tucked the hair behind her ear. “Emma, I have to face the inevitable at this point. My fairies are betraying us. Maybe there is no spell after all. Maybe they are truly joining Mim’s cause.”

       “Just the other day you were sure they were loyal. What changed?” Emma asked, bothered by something Blue had done, or said, though she couldn’t understand why. “What are you suggesting, exactly?”

       “That, considering these events, perhaps it’s time we acted drastically. I could replicate the magic inhibiting cuff made by Pan, and we could place them on the Sisters until we know what’s going on.”

       Mary Margaret held up her hand. “Whoa, whoa. I think that’s going a little too drastic.”

       “But how are we to know whom to trust?”

       Emma weighed in. “That will de-power all but a few of the magic users in town. We may need the other fairies. And what happened to innocent until proven guilty? We can’t just start rounding them up.” Grabbing one of the sugar packets from her lap and mentally high-fiving her dad for his consideration of her sugar needs, Emma ripped it open with her teeth and tossed the contents into her drink.

       Astrid, who had been passively waiting near Mother Superior ever since finishing her report, suddenly gave a started gasp. “Emma! There is a connection with Heather and Halley!”

       “Their names both start with an ‘H’?” Lily suggested drily from beside the window, squinting against the sunlight as she turned her head to look at them.

       “No, no,” Astrid said excitably. “Yesterday, when Mim assaulted the convent with her pirate friend, she – well, she knocked me out, but right before that, I was checking on two of the sisters she’d just attacked. I didn’t make the connection before this, but it was Red and Gray. And the area smelled really strange, like…like a firework after it’s been lit. Tinkerbell and I were rendered unconscious too, so I didn’t think much of it. But maybe she hit them with a spell. Maybe that’s why-”

       “Thank you, Nova; you’re excused,” Mother Superior interjected smoothly. “That is all for now.”

       Emma, along with everyone else in the room, fell into wordless confusion.

       At last, Astrid collected herself, and ventured timidly, “You don’t want to know anything else?”

       “We will call for you if something comes up,” Blue replied, and Emma was readying an argument when Astrid nodded meekly and left.

       “That was critical information,” Killian said with a minimal attempt at patience. Still holding Ariadne, he’d stayed at a distance, but had listened to everything with rapt attention. “Why did you send her off?”

       “If what she’s saying is true, she could turn on us at any moment,” Blue pointed out. “Do you think it is wise for her to be here when we’re making plans?”

       Emma wasn’t sure how she felt about the new information, but it was the most plausible explanation for the fairies’ betrayal she’d heard so far.

And it had taken the theft of Mim’s wings to figure it out.

       “Emma, I had another problem. The Dark One dagger is gone. I fear one of the fairies may have taken it as well,” Blue said.

       “No, it’s okay,” Mary Margaret quickly assured her. “Emma has it. It’s safe.”

       Mother Superior did not even crack a smile of relief. She barely blinked. “Is that so? How did that happen?”

       “I found it,” Emma said. “Someone took it, but like my mom said, it’s secure.”

In her mind, she prepared a defense for Killian; but incredibly, Mother Superior didn’t question who had stolen it, or why. “Good. That is the best news I’ve heard since this debacle started. Shall we make arrangements to return it?”

       “Hold on,” Graham said, using a pillow to prop himself up on the bed. “I don’t mean to sound judgmental, Mother Superior, but that’s three items now that have gone missing from the convent. Maybe it’s better off wherever it is now? Emma can always give it back when Mim’s been stopped.”

       “Agreed,” Killian said without hesitating. “The she-devil is already on the hunt for it. Let us give her no further advantages.”

       Emma, wanting to agree with them, glanced at Mary Margaret before saying, “What do you think about it, Mother Superior?”

       For an instant, Emma thought she saw Blue’s features tighten in irritation or even anger. But she must have been mistaken, for the fairy was nodding.

       “You’re right, of course, and I most certainly agree. It would not do for Mim to gain control of the dagger.” Rising, Mother Superior reached for a Kleenex in her pocket and dabbed at her nose. “Now that Graham is awake, I feel my presence is needed at the convent. Not only do the Sisters need reassurance, but I need to research control spells and see if I can’t figure out how to help Red and Gray. If, that is, Nova is correct in her assumptions.”

       “What do we do about Mim’s wings?” Emma asked, leaving her seat and resting a thumb in her belt loop. She took a long drink of the coffee, figuring she was going to need it.

       “For now, there is no need to worry. I removed them, only I can reattach them. The spell to do so can only be enacted by someone with the strongest of magic, and who carries fairy blood. Just keep trying to find her.”

       In the hallway, by the alcove with the TV, Astrid was waiting for them with David and Neal. When she saw Emma and the rest of her family, her face brightened. “Have you thought of a way to stop Mim?”

       “We’re…getting there,” Emma said, finishing her coffee in one large gulp and tossing it into a trashcan. She didn’t like what she was going to have to ask of the fairy, and she could feel it twisting her face into a glare.

       “Good. You know, when Mim talked to me during the attack, she made it sound like she wanted to give us ‘freedom’ from the fairy duties or something ridiculous like that.” Pausing, she smiled repentantly at Blue. “Not that we want that. But then she tries to show it by controlling us? That just…rips my wings! What a hypocrite!”

       “Listen, Astrid…” Emma sighed. “First, let me make clear, this is completely voluntary. But you…you were hit by Mim’s magic, just like Heather and Halley. Would you consider wearing one of the cuffs to prohibit your magic, only until we know exactly what’s going on? Just in case she did more than knock you out.”

       Emma didn’t know if she was doing the right thing. But she did know she didn’t want another person she cared for cursed. Next time, they might not be so lucky.

       Astrid took it in stride, not seeming to think anything amiss of the request. “Sure, sure. I will ask Tinkerbell if she wants to put one on, as well. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

       “I’ll oversee it,” Mother Superior said. “Time to go, Nov…Astrid.”

       The Underworld

       One Year Ago

       “What an utter narcissist. And I say that as the woman who created a literal mansion for herself in Storybrooke,” Regina said, taking in the throne room.

       Set on a circular dais with a pentacle motif, the ostentatious area included candles, a bookcase, a globe, and a bar cart with vintage drinks, among other things. There was even a pool table, similar to the one in the Rabbit Hole.

       And Killian remembered all of it.

       Surrounding it were the five rivers of the Underworld. If Killian’s chthonic knowledge was correct, they were: Styx, which according to various legends, was either a path to invulnerability, or a place where the wrathful were punished, fighting one another as they drowned for eternity; Cocytus, icy waters where the worst traitors and frauds were penalized; Phlegethon, a scalding and painful torment for those who had committed unforgivable acts of violence against their fellow man.

Then there was Hades’ favorite, and the river that served as a bridge between Earth, the Underworld, and the Worse Place: the Acheron, which turned those who touched it into mindless husks. Finally, there was Lethe, the river of forgetfulness.

“Let’s have a look,” Killian said, the four of them split up to search.

       Cora, kicking at the heavy skirts of her miller’s attire, crouched before the bookcase and began flipping through volumes. “Be fast. There’s no telling how long Milah can keep him distracted.”

       “You said we’re looking for pages?” Graham asked, spinning the large globe before lifting it and checking underneath the base.

       “Preferably; but anything that looks important should be considered as well,” Killian told him.

       “Like this?” Regina asked in a hushed tone.

       She had popped open a cubby on one of Hades’ chairs, and sitting inside was a cylindrical crystal, glowing white and about the length of a child’s arm.

       “What the devil is that?” Killian asked.

       Cora walked over to her daughter and the crystal, and Killian could not tell if the gleam in her eye was a reflection of the crystal, or fiendish delight at observing the mysterious object.

       “How did you know that was there?” Graham wondered, as he, too, went in for a closer look.

       Regina, still kneeling, gripped her legs tightly. “I didn’t. But I’ve lived around enough powerful, arrogant people to know their habits.”

       Speculatively, Cora leaned on the arm of the chair and peered into the compartment. “It has great, terrible magic in it. That I can tell.”

       “I feel it, too,” confirmed Regina. “This thing has firepower.”

       None among their party seemed eager to touch it, so Killian closed the distance and hefted the item in his hand.

       “What are you doing?”

       “If this is a source of power for Hades, I say it’s high time we cut him off.”

       Snapping the cover of the compartment closed, Regina regarded him thoughtfully.

       Cora glared, then snarled, “You stupid boy. We don’t have any idea what that thing does or how it works. You could have destroyed us and killed my daughter.”

       “We don’t have time for arguments,” Graham said quietly. “We’ve already spent more time here than we planned. We weren’t even prepared to search for anything; this was supposed to be a test for Milah. Whatever we decide to do with that thing, we should do it fast.”

       Glancing across the platform, where some of Killian’s dried blood still hadn’t been thoroughly mopped up from his time as Hades’ guest, Killian saw the rivers, churning in their bright, dangerous colors. “Cora, is Hades immune to the rivers, or do they affect him as they do us?”

       “As I understand it, the River of Lost Souls will not transform him into one of those…ghouls, but he dares not enter the waters. If he does, he will be trapped forever, the same as the souls; but he’ll retain his consciousness.”

       Graham exhaled. “I think I’d rather be a ghoul.”

       “You have learned much, Cora,” Killian said, hoping he didn’t sound as suspicious as he felt.

       “People in this dungeon gossip, pirate. What else do we have to do besides that, and suffer?”

       With an agreeing twitch of his lip, Killian lifted the crystal above his shoulder, like a spear. Turning his back on the Styx, he lined up with the green river. He’d send the blasted thing to the very bottom of the Acheron; see the mighty ‘god’ try to get it back with his rowboat.

       The Mills women shrieked “Wait!” at the same instant Graham took his arm.

“Whoa, wait, Jones,” the huntsman cautioned. “It’s a good idea, but what if he has the Hydra retrieve it for him?”  

       Still, Killian did not lower his arm. The rivers were deepest here; who knew if they’d get another opportunity like this?

       “Let’s at least figure out what it is, first,” Graham persuaded. “Okay?”

       “Very well,” Killian grumbled, but he held it firmly, not wanting to concede it to the others. Perhaps Regina, but he didn’t trust Cora in the least, and Graham was still barely an acquaintance to him.

       “Time to leave,” Regina said, reaching for her mother’s wrist and removing the dampening cuff. “Ready to go, mother?”

       “Yes. There is a direct exit via the elevator in the library. It’s right this way,” Cora replied, making an elegant gesture with her arm towards a rocky path. “Just give me a moment.”

       After she replaced her rags with a stylish pantsuit with the help of her restored magic, Cora sighed happily. “Now we can leave.”

       “Aye, and I know right where to go,” Killian said. “I have an idea.”

       Storybrooke

       Present Day

       “  -‘Goodnight noises everywhere.’ ” *

       Ariadne, lying on Emma’s bed, pumped her legs up and down energetically, stringing out an extended, noisy discourse as to her thoughts on the story.

Although Storybrooke’s heroes had set up lookouts and barricades at every conceivable place Mim might attack, the day had passed quietly. Wherever Mim was, whatever she was doing, she was avoiding them studiously.

That evening, Emma had invited him to her home again. He hadn’t hesitated to accept.

       “Oh, is that so?” Killian asked the gurgling baby, flipping to the beginning of the book. “Your brother claimed you love this book. He’s not here tonight to read it to you, though, so you’ll have to make do with my reading. I’ll have you know, love, the Harper and Collins publishing company, copyright 1947, would take exception to your complaints. Perhaps if you penned them a strongly written letter, they would be more likely to take what you’re saying into consideration.”

       “Ah-bababa,” Adi argued, shaking her lion blanket and then stuffing it in her mouth.

       “No, I suppose you’re right, my little First Mate; it is pointless to wish a goodnight to every inanimate object in the house.” Leaning down on his elbow beside her, Killian worked at taking the lion from between her gums. Emma was preparing one of the teething rings they’d procured that afternoon, which the baby would probably prefer. “Now, were we aboard the Jolly, it could be used a useful study as to the layout of a ship. You’re going to have to learn, you know. Say it with me, Adi: Goodnight topsails, goodnight mainsails, goodnight crow’s nest watching the sea...Goodnight rigging, goodnight mast…Well; we haven’t even gotten to the deck, love. How long can you stay awake?”

       “It’s not about how long she’s awake, it’s about keeping her asleep,” said Emma, who had stepped into the room. “She usually wakes up to eat a couple times each night.”

       “Each night?” Killian wondered, finally getting the lion away from Ariadne. “That must be exhausting.”

       “It can be. I’m getting used to it. Between the feedings, she sleeps really hard. Like I said, not much can wake her up. Except food.”

       He sat up, and Emma came to the bed and sat behind him, rubbing his arms a couple times before resting her chin on the back of his shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

       The feeling of her body against him eased him from a lonely ache hadn’t even realized he’d carried. To lighten the sensation, he tried to joke. “Your Killian Jones had either an incredible stroke of fortune, or an inexhaustible supply of charm, to have won your heart.”

       Emma chose not to tease in kind, following with a sincere, “It was neither. It was just you.”

       Killian felt he could remain in that moment forever, but he had a pressing question. “You talked to the Blue Fairy on the phone, just now, didn’t you? What did she say?” He broke away from her arms and turned to face her.

“Remember how you said Ariadne reacts negatively to Dark Magic? Well, Blue thinks it’s because her magic is pure light. When she sensed the dark energy, her body may have just…reacted to it, attacked it, like a white blood cell destroying a virus or bacteria. It wasn’t anything on a conscious level; she’s a baby, after all.”

“Only heard of cell phones and jail cells, love,” Killian said, and, suddenly inspired, lightly draped the blanket portion of the toy over Ariadne’s forehead and eyes. “I know not of blood cells.”

He waited a moment, then snatched it off quickly with an exaggerated gasp.

Ariadne, suddenly seeing his face again, found the new game to be marvelous fun. Bursting out into laughter, she wriggled and twisted her body with delight.           

       “Well, um…You know how if your knee gets hit in just the right place, your foot will bounce out?”

       “Aye,” Killian agreed, covering the baby’s eyes again.

       “It’s kind of like that. The dark magic touched her, and she kicked back.”

       “A reflex.” Killian lifted the blanket, and pure joy lit Ariadne’s face when she found him once more. With a high pitched squeal, she grabbed her feet and giggled until she was breathless.

       Precious, darling thing.

       Watching her daughter with equal adoration, Emma confirmed, “Yes.”

       “Emma, I don’t want to give her to the fairy.”

       “Any particular reason why?”

       Stroking the infant’s downy head of hair, Killian sighed. “First, and perhaps most important, is that she’s a person, not a potion. I’m afraid she’d be first seen as unparalleled magic contained inside a baby, instead of a baby who happens to have power. You must know what I mean, Swan; the very same thing happened to you, when we were at the apothecary’s residence earlier today. The dragon girl expected the Savior to solve everything.”

       Introspectively, Emma said, “Huh. Go on.”

“No matter how benevolent the head fairy may be, if word of this gets out, it could be very harmful. There are always villains willing to exploit the innocent, if it will give them an advantage.”

       Auroras young, sweet face drifted into his conscience. Wearily, Killian wondered if she’d ever gotten her heart back. Hopefully, the warrior maiden had replaced it. “Including myself, I’m afraid.”

       “Not anymore.” Planting her hand on the padded bedcover, Emma said, “Is this really how you feel about it?”

       “Yes. If a problem arises, we can certainly consult Blue. But unless that comes to pass, I wish to keep Ariadne away from all that for as long as possible.”

       “I understand. We’ll just play it by ear for now, okay?”

       She handed him a cold, playfully decorated circle, and said, “Here. The teething ring. She’ll like it.”

       Killian placed it in Ariadne’s tiny digits, and into the mouth it went.

       Ariadne seemed completely bewildered at first, mouth opening widely as she puzzled over the new and exciting sensation held in her fingers. Cold.

       She then clamped her mouth down on the teething ring a few times, with little huffs of breath in between, one brow lifting in almost smug wonder at the experience. “Look what I’ve done,” she seemed to boast. “How clever I am to have found this treasure.”

       “Oh, god,” Swan said, sounding mildly horrified. “She’s doing that eyebrow thing you do.”

       “Is that an insult, or a compliment?” Killian asked, unable to keep from teasing her.

       Snorting, Emma nuzzled into his neck and said, “I’m not even sure.”

       Stroking the underside of Swan’s jaw with his thumb – it felt so natural; how did it feel so normal after just a few days beside her? – Killian wondered, “Why did you pick the name Ariadne?”

       Pulling away, she inspected him with a worried expression. “You don’t like it?”

       “Just the opposite. I am merely wondering what inspired you.”

       “This is going to sound really weird,” Emma said at last, playing with Ariadne’s toes, “but I opened the baby name book right to it, and…I knew. I didn’t even bother browsing the rest of the options. It just called to me, and something was telling me, ‘this is the baby’s name’.” With a far-off stare, she concluded, “Like someone was introducing her.”

       “Swan, after the last few days, I don’t think I could find anything odd anymore,” Killian said, adding, “If you believe you were compelled, I trust you were. The name is beautiful.”

       She appeared relieved to hear him say it. Turning to look at the subject of their conversation, Emma said, “She turns five months old tomorrow. I was going to take pictures and maybe handprints or footprints for her baby book, but I doubt we’ll have the time. Maybe Mim will be dealt with by the time her first tooth comes in all the way, and we can put that in her milestones.”

       “If you want to record something for her now, there’s no reason we can’t,” Killian said, hoping to cheer her. “Why shouldn’t we? Tomorrow will bring its troubles, true; but we have tonight.”

       “But she’s not really five months yet,” Emma pointed out, though he could see she was warming to the idea. “She can’t stay up and wait for the clock to strike 12.”

       “And I suppose you gave birth to her at precisely midnight on the day of her birth?”

“Well, no.”

“Come, love; a few hours makes no difference,” he persuaded mischievously, rubbing her lower back. “Adi’s lion was just telling me he wanted his portrait taken. Who are we to deny him?”

       Emma giggled, throwing her arms around him in a loving embrace. “You goofball. I love you.”

       Hearing it again was a balm to his being, and he knew this time he had to address it. “Swan, hearing that means everything to me. I’m not completely sure I can say it in return yet, but…I am certain that one day, I will.”

       She surprised him by kissing him hungrily, every movement of her lips pulling the remnants of his lingering fears and doubts away.

       “Easy, Swan,” he breathed a bit shakily, before he could get carried away. “There are children present.”

       “Here,” she said, lifting Adi and placing her in his arms. “I just thought of the perfect picture. ‘First’-”

       Killian could see a variegated display of emotions flickering in her luminous eyes, and she struggled a moment to continue. “ ‘First day my daddy held me.’ ”

       Had it really only been that morning he’d pulled Ariadne from Blackbeard’s clutches and held her for the first time? It felt like days ago.

       “Smile, Killian,” Emma instructed, phone aloft.

       Killian obeyed, smiling down at the at the baby. Ariadne, however, was much more interested in her teething ring at that moment.

       “Ariadne,” said Emma, cajoling, “can I have that for a second? You’re hiding your face.” She plucked the item from the baby’s hands and set it aside.

       “Here we…Killian, you’re supposed to smile at the camera, not at her…ahh, never mind. Still a great photo.”

       Returning Ariadne’s teething ring, she presented the portrait to Killian get his opinion, and he instantly informed her that having a baby in his arms made him twice as dashing as before.

       This netted him a rather severe eye roll.

       “You mock me, Swan?” he asked with artificial outrage. “I always suspected it to be true, of course; but now, with the help of the camera, I see it can’t be denied. I have incontrovertible evidence. My devilishly handsome looks have exponential possibilities when Ariadne is added to the equation.”

       This sent Emma into a fit of laughing. “Is that so?”

       He couldn’t help but continue the banter. “It is indeed.” He returned Ariadne’s teething ring to her hands, and when he spoke again, he was no longer joking. “I suppose I’ll just have to hold her forever,” he said softly, admiring her as she cut her teeth on her shiny new plaything. “What a strong, clever, lovely lass you are, darling.”

       Ariadne took the ring from her mouth and waved it back and forth, loudly declaring something only she understood.

       Swan took a stab at deciphering the babble. “I think she was agreeing with you. So much for my attempts to teach her humility.” Emma yawned and stretched her arms above her head, affording a glimpse of her stomach, which was still slightly curved from the pregnancy.

       She was so beautiful. He had attributed Ariadne with several virtues, and he had been speaking honestly; but those assets had undoubtedly all come from Emma.

       “All right, kid, one last feeding, then it’s off to bed with you,” Swan said, all business. “You should have been asleep an hour ago.”

       One Year Ago

       The Underworld

       “Why are we at the harbor?” Cora asked tiredly. “Hook, with that monster patrolling the water, even if you get a boat, I now realize it’s extremely unlikely you could sail out of the Underworld, even if you wanted to.”

       Killian felt a smile, almost nonexistent in the last few months, cross his face. “Who said anything about sailing out of here, love?”

       Regina eyed him. “What are you talking about?”

       “When Henry’s broken pen appeared, along with the fact that Emma’s wardrobe, which Cora forced Emma to burn, is now sitting in my house, I began-”

       “ ‘Forced’? Please, Captain, don’t pretend you and I weren’t on the same side then.”

       “You’re on the same side now,” Regina said crossly. “Hook, continue.”

“I began to wonder if other destroyed objects might be scattered around the Underworld, as well.”

       Recognizing the familiar shape of his beloved in the moonlight, Killian grinned again. Sure enough, near the bow of the ship, an additional, heavy, white, feathered sail adorned her.

       Pointing to the Jolly with the crystal, Killian said, “Why sail when you can fly?”

       Graham and Cora stared at him blankly, and Regina, lost in thought, finally said, “Are you saying you hope to find Pan’s shadow here? It was hard enough to catch it the first time.”

       “Not at all. This, love, is called the Pegasus sail. The Jolly, back when she was coined the Jewel of the Realm, could always fly. But in a fit of youthful passion, I burned it away. I had no idea it would end up aiding me again one day.”

       Cautiously hopeful, Regina leaned her head back and studied the sail with curiosity. “Interesting. It just might work.”

       “A solution for another day, perhaps,” Graham said. “We still need to get those names off the headstones.”

       “Aye,” Killian said. “Let’s return home.”

       Regina, arm in arm with Cora, said, “You go on ahead. My mother and I have a bit to discuss, first.”

       Surprisingly, it was Graham who asked, “You’ll be all right?”

       “Of course.” Then, “Thank you, Graham. Goodnight. Killian, I will see you soon.”

       Storybrooke

       Present Day

       Emma asked Killian to mind the sleeping Ariadne while she went to check the crocodile. Though the temptation to follow her still arose in him, he found his concern over the baby was equally strong.

       Knowing he risked waking her, despite Emma’s assurances to the contrary, he ended up tiptoeing into the nursery numerous times, each visit made in a grip of terror that something might be wrong.

       When Swan had presented him a baby book to read while she was away, he had opened right to the section on how babies slept, and it had left him convinced Ariadne would expire at any moment.

       Each time, the babe was contentedly stretched out on her back, breathing softly, and he’d release a quiet sigh of relief.

       Baby care was quite stressful.

       At last, he heard the front door swing open, and Emma called for him.

       “I’m up here, love,” he called, and she soon arrived in the upstairs hallway beside him.

       “Are you keeping a vigil outside her door? What’s wrong?”

       “Swan, this manual says SIDS is the third most common cause of infant mortality in the United States, as of 2011. Are we in the United States?”

       “Yes, but…”

       “It recommends not allowing any soft items in the sleeping area. I took the lion out.”

       Giving him a look that was decidedly peculiar, Emma said, “Oh, okay. Did she-”

       “And her bassinet is not one recommended by the American Pediatric Society. Where is this America, so we can procure one from them?”

       Alarmed, Emma said, “Okay.” Reaching over, she slid the book from his hand. “Honey? America and the United States are the same place. And Marco handmade that crib as a gift to Ariadne. He has decades of experience under his belt, including modern, cursed experience. It’s safe. She’s fine.”

       “But what of -”

“Trust me, obsessing over this stuff nonstop will make you miserable, and the baby miserable. I found that out the hard way.”

       “I…I did not intend any of that as a criticism of you, Emma,” he apologized. “You know, more than I, what Ariadne needs, of course. It’s only,” he attempted to explain, “I didn’t pay attention to Pan’s warning to Liam, and the next day he was just…gone.”

       Somehow, he felt he was talking out of turn, had said too much; but in response she placed one hand over his (her) heart, and used the other to take his hand, kissing his knuckles with gentle care. “I’m sorry. I know how quickly it happened. But we’re in this together, hey?”

       “Aye, we are.” He had been a captain for so long, he had almost forgotten what having a true partner was like. Not since Milah.

       “Killian, will you stay with me tonight?” Emma asked. Charmingly, she sounded almost nervous. “I just…I want to wake up with you.”

       Stepping forward, she kissed him, bumping him back into the wall. “You said earlier, we have tonight. Can we?” she murmured against his lips.

       This time, even had he wanted to turn her down, he doubted he could have. “As you wish, love.”

       He had known, ever since the beanstalk, that being with Swan would be nothing like a common romp with a barmaid, but even still, it was...

It was like having his soul exposed and then restored, anew.

After, when he pressed his forehead to hers, keeping her close to him, he managed to ask, “Emma, with us, was it always…like that?”

       She breathed a small, satisfied chuckle and curled up against him. “Yeah. And when you loved me, it was even more.” It was said as a moment of reflection, softly and without disappointment or sadness, and once again he felt a bit lost and left behind by her memories; as if she knew the answers to riddles he’d never seen, or wanted to dance with him to music he’d never heard. “Thank you,” she said. “I…I missed you so much.”

       Stroking her arm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was about to fall for her, or if he was already careening headlong into it.

       “Emma-”

       “Shhh.” She fondled his hair lazily, contentedly. “We’re home.”

*Excerpt from Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

Chapter Text

One Year Ago

                   The Underworld

       Stepping into the darkened entry of his home, Killian was greeted by welcoming arms and a sound, warm kiss from Emma, chasing away the chill of the early hour.

       Touched more by the fact that she’d been awaiting him than the kiss itself, Killian drew her nearer with his hook and began to ask a question, until Emma placed a cautionary finger to her lips and pointed to the floor of the living room.

       Henry was on the floor in his sleeping roll, spread out beside Regina and Robin’s fold-out sofa bed. Light, rasping snores escaped him as he dozed.

       “I had no idea he snores now,” Emma whispered fondly. “I wonder if Regina knows. Hey, where is she, anyway?”

       “She’s with her mother, presently,” Killian murmured back.  “She’ll return shortly.”

       Grasping his hook with steady, sure fingers, Emma brought him to the kitchen and switched on the smaller light overhanging the oven. Then, they both went to the table, and proceeded to converse quietly.

       “What is that?” was Emma’s first question, upon finally noticing the large crystal in his hand. She grasped the handle of a mug of cocoa that she’d left waiting on the table, but did not lift it.

       “I’m not sure. We found it in Hades’ throne room,” Killian said, placing it on the table. Other than its odd glow, he would have thought it a mere decoration or ornament, a pretty trophy.

       “That thing is, like…radioactive,” Emma said, cautiously prodding it with the cup.

       “Radiation?”

       She gave him one of her tolerantly amused looks. “You know I wasn’t being literal. Look at you, reading one science book from Henry’s school, and you gotta show off.” Her eyes were mirthful, to let him know she was teasing.

       “This time I wasn’t facetious, Swan,” Killian told her, frowning at the crystal. “I honestly wouldn’t have known there was anything extraordinary about it if I wasn’t told otherwise.”

“Wow. You can’t feel that?” Emma looked over the crystal again with uncertainty. “Well, trust me. It makes Zelena’s green necklace look like a vending machine prize.”

“Regina and Cora indicated something similar. Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken it,” Killian said, sliding it away from Emma. “Any ideas on what it does? I assume it’s a weapon, but…” He trailed off, contemplating. They could ask Belle, come sunrise. If anyone would recognize the artifact, it was the clever researcher.

The crocodile might, as well; but if it was indeed a weapon, Killian certainly didn’t wish the demon to be made aware of it.

Resting her chin on her hand, Emma was also reflecting. “No, I don’t think it’s a weapon. I mean yeah, it could be. It is,” she clarified. “But Hades doesn’t really need one. He’s Hades. He could…smite…people whenever he wanted. So, what does a god need with a magic crystal thingie?”

“Something he can’t do by himself,” Killian finished, grinning at the brilliance of his Swan. “If he has to use it for something he can’t accomplish alone-”

“Then he has a weakness,” Emma said, and he could hear the soft triumph in her voice, an all too rare sound.

“You’re amazing, my love.”

She blushed in the dim light, and it placed a lodge right in Killian’s throat. It always shocked her to hear praise, as though she still wasn’t used to hearing it, and still wasn’t sure she deserved it.

       If he, by some miracle, returned alive to Storybrooke with Emma, he would dedicate himself to making sure their child never experienced such feelings of worthlessness, and the pain of continual doubt. He didn’t want the child to suffer the way his or her parents had.

       “And that’s why you’ll always be an orphan.”

       In his cautious optimism after leaving Hades’ dungeons, Killian had almost tuned out the nagging, interminable voice of his doubts.

        Silent and heavy, the words he’d spoken rested on him like a curse in itself. How carefully, deliberately he’d chosen the attack, crafting the weapon of his words as delicately a swordsmith, knowing what would most hurt Emma – because he knew what she wished for most.

       Pressing his lips together, Killian affected a smile in Emma’s direction. He should not, could not allow such dark memories to poison their future together. He’d as much as promised her, after Liam moved on.

        But like rot believed to be cut away, only to regrow, the Darkness was waiting for its chance to play with him once more.

       It was no longer in control of him, but it was there, lying in wait for a hint of weakness or fear to take root and destroy him, until he was a husk for its own taking.

       Was it the same for Emma? Was she carrying the invisible scars borne of the Dark One curse? She was strong, far stronger than him, but…

       Another voice, one that held far more sway over him than any magic, was sinking into his consciousness.

       Flush fading, Emma was speaking. “Thanks. You’re pretty great, yourself.” Clearing her throat, she asked, “So, you found Cora and stole Hades’ magic glow stick. What else was down there?”

       Thinking of the monster they’d avoided, Killian suppressed a shudder. He hoped that none of them had to receive an introduction. “There’s a new creature guarding the dungeons. The hydra. It’s-”               

       “Got a lot of snake heads, hard to kill? Yeah, I’ve seen Captain America. I kind of know what it is.” Cupping his chin, she peered at him with loving concern. “You’re okay, though? You got away?”

       “We never encountered it,” he reassured her. “It wasn’t a problem. But it could be, in the future. We need to tread carefully going forward. It’s worse than Cerberus. It’s extremely poisonous; just touching it could kill you.”

       She crinkled her nose. “ ‘Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?’.”

Swan and her quotes. “Beg pardon?”

“It’s from a movie you need to watch.” She gave his chin an affectionate squeeze. “Henry keeps saying how he wants to catch you up on pop culture.”

       “Someday, love,” he said absently, her mention of the boy causing his attention to wander to where the snores emanated. “How did things go here?”

       Lowering her hand, Emma shifted on her chair. “Fine. I, uh, finally got around to talking to Henry about his dad. When we first arrived, he was kind of hoping Neal would be here.”

        The lad wasn’t the only one who had wished to see Bae. Until he’d seen the headstone for himself, Killian had hoped to have a reunion with his old friend; while simultaneously, he was happy the man had moved on peacefully. “How did Henry take it?”

       “Pretty well, considering. I think knowing Neal is in a good place helped him come to terms with it. Just talking about it seemed to help him, too.”

       “And you, love?” Killian asked gently. “I’m sure it’s not easy for you, either.”

       With a hint of both fondness and wistfulness, finality and closure, she explained, “I got to say my goodbyes before Neal passed. We made peace, and I’m happy with that, although it would have been nice to see him. I just wish Henry could have gotten one last chance to speak with him, even if we weren’t able to bring him back.”

       “Aye, I wish the same thing. The lad loved him dearly, and Bae clearly loved him back.”

       “They didn’t know each other long, but I know Neal loved Henry more than anyone else in the world,” Emma agreed. “I’m glad that Henry knows that, at least.”

       Indeed, there were few more comforting things in the realms than the assurance of a parent’s love.

       Killian knew he wasn’t Henry’s father – Neal was, and forever would be- nor did the boy lack parental figures in his life, but from this moment on, he would never let Henry doubt he cared for him. In addition, he would do his utmost to encourage him to come to Killian with concerns.

       There were some things, after all, that a lad just didn’t want to ask his mothers or grandparents.

       “I’m glad, too,” Killian replied.

       With a half-smile, Emma spun the ring hanging around her neck.

       Glimmering in the low light, the sparkle of the jewelry caught Killian’s eye, reminding him of the question he’d kept in the back of his mind.

       He wondered, if he asked now, if she’d say yes.

       He’d have asked her in Camelot, if he’d thought she was ready.

       (Why bother lying to himself; truth be told, he’d have asked her when he’d found her in New York.)

       “I want to hurt you,” breathed the darkness, pulling him back into its cold grip.

            His words, and not the Dark One’s; to deny it was a coward’s excuse.

            It was something he would remember forever: Emma, in their living room, silently crying, bewildered and hurt as surely as if he’d slid a knife between her ribs.

            How could he possibly think to ask for her hand after that?

            Never mind the more impeding fact that he was dead.

            The crystal pulsated, throwing eerie shadows around the kitchen, and for a moment it seemed as though they loomed closer before retracting, like an elaborate dance.

“So how did you avoid the hydra?” Emma asked watching him as she sipped her beverage. “Did Regina use some glamour spell?”

       “No, love. Milah distracted it for us.” His guilt, a perfect lure for regret, pressed him with more shame. He should never have questioned his faith in Milah, betrayal from Liam notwithstanding.

       “Do you think she’s okay?”

       This question, at least, he felt he could answer with confidence. “Cora said she was successful in baiting it. Everything went according to plan. But I will contact her tomorrow, to be sure.”

       “Good. I knew we could trust her,” Emma said, sounding relieved.

       “You did,” he concurred. “I’m sorry for not listening to you,” If he had only trusted Emma’s instincts as to Milah and Liam...

The sound of a lock turning drew their attention to the entry door, and Emma shot to her feet, hands extended and ready to enact her magic.

       Small tendrils of white escaped Emma’s fingers, and she seemed to catch herself, curling her hands into fists before opening them again – this time, with no magic. Releasing a small, confused gasp as she tried to regain control over her power, Emma again turned her attention to the activity at the door.

Regina appeared on the welcome mat, with her hands half raised. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cosmetics smudged and damp.

       “It’s only me,” the queen said, stepping inside and taking in the sleeping bag containing Henry.  “Why is Henry on the floor?”

“Belle is staying with us. She’s in his room.”

 “Oh. Where’s Robin?”

Killian, mindful of the deceits and dangers of the Underworld, stepped between Emma and Regina. If Emma was struggling to manage her magic, she…

Well, she could obviously still hold her own, but there was no reason he couldn’t act as her backup. “First, Regina, tell me what you hired me to do thirty years ago,” he instructed.

“Is this necessary?” Regina asked, somewhere between cross and exhausted. “Fine. I asked you to kill my mother. Which you failed to do, by the way.”

“Right, then,” Killian nodded. “Happy to see you made it back.”

       “To answer your question, Robin’s upstairs somewhere,” said Emma, resting her arms at her sides.

       Killian rose, noting Regina’s closed expression and pinched features. “What happened with Cora? Is everything all right?”

       “Mother has moved on,” Regina announced shortly, slipping out of her jacket and lowering her head. Doubtless, she was using the routine to hide her feelings from them.

       Emma hesitated, but Killian knew that Regina could take the question. “Which way did she go, love?” he pressed.

       Hanging the jacket with care, Regina blinked. “The better place.”

       That…had not been the answer he was expecting. Regina’s sorrow, Cora’s history…it didn’t add up.

       “That’s…good, right?” Emma ventured uncertainly.

       “I suppose.”

       Killian took a few steps forward, to the queen’s side, and offered his hand. She looked first at it, and then him, in bewilderment that she briefly tried to cover with a sneer. But when she saw he was being genuine, she took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the table.

       “I’m sure there’s mixed emotions there,” Killian said, almost offhandedly. Regina, he sensed, would not take it well if he continued to push her. “Mum of the Year, she was not.”

       “Mmm,” Regina said, scoffing and lifting her brows. “No, she was certainly not.”

       Emma, suddenly pushing her cocoa away as if the very thought of it was disgusting, took a couple of deep breaths-perhaps she was having another spell of sickness – and asked, “Did she say something?”

       “Well, I told her about Zelena and Robin and the entire…” Lacing her fingers, Regina finished crisply,  “…mess. And then she started talking about how we were sisters, and all we had now was each other.” Powerful voice gradually declining into a murmur, she finished, “That we needed to love each other. Imagine, my mother encouraging love.”

       Resting her chin on her hands, Emma asked, “What did you say?”

       “The truth. That it was impossible. That Zelena hates me, and always will. But, then…”

       “Then, what?”

       “Mother restored my memories of a time when Zelena lived with us, briefly, when we were children. Zelena was…sweet, loving. Different than what she is now. She only wanted to do good with her powers, and help others. She saved my life. And we loved one another. Mother separated us, and stole that time from us.”

       Regina paused, brushing some hair back. “And now she’s given those moments back to us.”

       “Zelena, too? Across realms?”

“Selfless acts of love can cross realms, yes. Mother, I think, truly regretted abandoning Zelena -In her own way, that is. I doubt she would’ve gone to the better place if she didn’t. Now, whether she truly loved her or not, I couldn’t say; but her final choice, at least, was made from unselfish love.”

       So, the final heart the Queen of Hearts had discovered was her own. A shame it had to happen in the afterlife, and not before, when her daughters needed her.

“So, how do you think Zelena is taking it? Do you think she’ll want to change, now that she knows you two cared about each other, once?”

       Eyes brimming with tears, Regina confessed, “I don’t know. All I know is, I…I want to see my sister. As soon as possible.”

       “Regina-” Emma started to say, but Regina was already leaving the table.

       “No, Emma, I need some time. To think about all of this. I’m going to go upstairs and talk to Robin.”

       With that, Regina was gone.

       “Whoa,” Emma muttered. “I forgot how bad Cora could mess with Regina’s head. You think she was playing her again?”

       Killian deliberated. He hoped not. He didn’t want Regina to be left as she was, as they all were - another alienated child grown up. “Not this time, no. What would be the point? What would she have gained? When it comes down to this point, love, when you’re in the Underworld, all that is left is to try and help those you failed in life.”

       Emma tilted her head a fraction, as if concerned by his remark, then nodded her head to the stairs. “C’mon. Let’s get ready for bed.”

       Storybrooke

       6 months ago

            “Oh, open it, Emma!”

            Emma had had her fill of cake, punch, and stupid shower games, and she was quickly tiring of opening presents, as well.

            But she dutifully, smilingly, opened the present from Mary Margaret, while her mother fairly squirmed with excitement.

            “Oh, a little security blanket. With a lion’s head on it,” Emma said, turning the package over. “Cute. Thanks, mom!”

            “Remember, the stuffed tiger in your nursery? Well, this is its spiritual successor.”

            Emma didn’t actually remember the tiger – maybe it had been mixed in with the toys in the Underworld – but clearly it meant something to Mary Margaret.

            “I love it. It looks so soft. The baby’s going to love it, too,” Emma told her affectionately.

            Leaning closer to Emma’s chair, Mary Margaret whispered, “Your dad and I have a few more gifts for the baby. But we’ll bring them over to your place later.”

            Squeezing her mother’s fingers in acknowledgment, Emma turned to the next item.

            “That one’s from me,” Zelena said, watching the rest of the group from under the brim of her hat. “Enjoy.”

            “This should be interesting,” Emma thought, parting the top of the gift bag and looking inside.

            Hidden under paper stuffing was a toddler harness. It was shaped, of course, like a monkey,, complete with a leash styled like a tail.

            “Oh, that’s…lovely, Zelena,” Mary Margaret tried, attempting to put a positive spin on the gift. “She could use it when she’s older…”

Emma almost chuckled. It was about what she had expected.

            “Oh, don’t any of you have a sense of humor? Please, don’t all laugh at once,” Zelena pouted. “Here’s the real gift.” Another bag appeared in Emma’s lap in a puff of green smoke.

            Unable to help being interested, Emma leaned over her stomach and reached her hand inside the bag to remove the contents.

            She brought out a tiny leather jacket, black with red trim, modeled in a shorter style of Killian’s pirate jacket, but with enough modern updates to it that it didn’t look like a costume.

            Speechless, Emma stared at it.

            “I had it custom made at Modern Fashions,” Zelena said, hesitatingly, as if to cover the silence. “It’s sized for 5T. Knowing how obsessed her parents were with leather, it was the first thing I thought of.”

            “Zelena, it’s gorgeous,” Emma breathed in awe, stroking the material. Maybe the jacket was a touch impractical, but it was the most fantastic piece of toddler clothing she’d ever seen. “That is so thoughtful.”

            The Oz witch shrugged, uncomfortable with the approval, even as she clearly was seeking it. “I’m more partial to furs and crystals, myself. Never knew what you and the one-ha - you and Killian saw in all that leather.”

            “Thank you,” Emma said, carefully laying it back in the bag. “It’s amazing. I know the baby will like it, too.”

            “Well – you’re welcome, Emma. And congratulations.”

            Moving on to Granny’s gift, wrapped crisply and efficiently, Emma tore it open to find a handmade, purple blanket with white ribbons.

            “I’ll stitch her name in, as soon as you choose it,” Granny said, smiling proudly. “You know, when I made yours, I never thought I’d be around long enough to make one for a child of your own. But here we are.”

            Clutching the blanket to her chest, Emma said, “It’s perfect, Granny. Thank you.”           

            “You’re welcome. And Ruby and Dorothy send their best wishes and love from Oz, as well.”

            “Tell them ‘hi’, if you get a chance,” Emma said as Mary Margaret gathered the gifts and set them aside.

            An hour later, after all the guests aside from Regina and Belle had left, Emma joined her mother and friends in the kitchen, searching for garbage bags to begin help with the party cleanup.

            “Oh, no!” Mary Margaret immediately objected. “The star of the shower isn’t obligated to help with the party. Those are the rules.”

            “Come on, mom, I want to do it.” What else was she going to do, anyway? Go back to her empty house? “It’s the least I can do.”

            “But…”

            “Mom, I can try to dodge you to get to the closet where you keep the cleaning supplies – which is gonna be really difficult in my condition- or, you can let me pass. How are we going to do this?”

            Belle giggled. “For the record, Snow, I promise not to be this difficult at my shower.”

            Emma felt a grin form on her face. It was the first time Belle had laughed, much less made a joke, since they’d left the Underworld. “You’re just buttering her up, hoping she throws it at the library.”

            “Wait, are you doing that?” Belle asked Mary Margaret excitedly.

            “Ahh…I am now!” replied Mary Margaret cheerily, and even Regina laughed.

            Emma watched Belle as the humor died down and they began the cleanup. Gradually, the smile left Belle’s face, and Emma knew exactly what she was thinking.

            If only my family could truly be whole.

            It was a thought that crossed Emma’s mind, all too often.

       Storybrooke

       The Previous Evening

       “Ms. Swan, I’m concerned. You’re visiting so late in the day recently. Is that pesky fairy still giving you trouble? They do that, you know. Feckless, faithless creatures.”

       He was spinning on his wheel, a concession she’d allowed him months ago at his request, after Regina had assured her that without magic it would yield him nothing beyond what an ordinary spinner could weave.

       “Shut it, Gold,” Emma said on automation, shivering and moving her hand to magically adjust the small heater she’d left for Gold in his cell.

       She didn’t know why Gold hadn’t already activated it. She didn’t expect him to freeze to death.

       “Leave it. The chill helps me think,” Gold said sharply.

       “I’m surprised. Here I assumed you were cold blooded.” Passing his plate of food from one hand to the other, Emma watched the wheel rotate, its movement almost entrancing.

       “Well, that’s your mistake then. You don’t know me at all. You merely believe you do.”

       Presenting the plate, Emma said, “All right. Dinner time. Let’s get this show on the road.”

       Just to be annoying, Gold spun for another full minute before letting the wheel slow its momentum and die. “I do so love being treated like an animal in a kennel.”

            “After what you pulled in the Underworld, you’re lucky you even have this.”

Gold slithered to the front of his cell. A craftily, nasty expression marred his features, and Emma could see The Dark One was in full control now.

“You blame me for your boyfriend’s choices? Remember, dearie, he left you of his own violation, you and his baby, because he couldn’t resist the opportunity to one-up me. In fact, I was counting on it.”

Astonished and outraged that Gold could misconstrue Killian’s motivations that badly, Emma sputtered, “He stayed because you left no other option.”

“Do you really think I would have allowed things to go that far, if I hadn’t been counting on Hook’s hatred of me? I would do anything to save my child. To be with my child. Apparently, Hook didn’t feel the same way about his.”

Indignant, Emma snapped, “You are so completely…evil it’s not even worth arguing about. I hope you rot in this cell.”

“Oh, the self-righteous Miss Swan wants to air grievances, does she? How about I have a go?”

Stiffening angrily, Emma said, “Do what you have to do, Gold, but don’t expect me to stick around to listen.”

Slapping his plate of food out of her hands, Gold began to recite, as though he’d spent hours running it through his head.  Maybe he had.

“You forced me to go to the Underworld. It is because of you, and only you, that my baby was placed in harm’s way to begin with. Afterward, you imprisoned me without a trial. You separated me from my wife and child. You’ve stuck me in this isolated chamber for months, with barely any human contact. I haven’t seen the sun in months. You are no better than Zelena. Worse, in fact; because she, at least, acknowledges her wicked deeds. You, Miss Swan, I have lost all respect for. You are a self-righteous, selfish woman, hiding behind that Charming shield of morality. You are no hero.”

Impassively, Emma watched him. “You done?”

“I think that will suffice for the present.”

Whisking away the broken plate and splattered food into oblivion with magic, Emma said, “Not that I need to defend myself to a mass murderer, but…A trial? Are you kidding? Where would we even start?” Throwing up her fingers, she began to tick off markers.

“When you first took the curse of the Dark One? Or the second time, when the greatest evil to ever roam the realms was about to be extinguished forever, but no – you just had to have it for yourself again. I’m selfish? The only reason we had to go to the Underworld in the first place is because you started it by unleashing the Dark One curse in Storybrooke – after being banished – just to save your own precious hide! You helped Ingrid try to destroy the town, you tried to trap me in a hat forever, you tried to kill Hook, you brought that nutcase Cruella here, who kidnapped your grandson. God, Neal would be devastated if he could see you now. Trial. Hah. You’re more of a danger to those you love than those you hate. Why do you think Belle wanted you locked up? It isn’t because I put Reynard in harm’s way, pal. If you hadn’t undone Hook’s sacrifice and taken the curse back, Reynard wouldn’t have even been born with his illness. Don’t put this on me, Gold.”

She didn’t know when her rebuttal had turned into an all-out rant, but suddenly her throat was raw and she was out of breath.

Gold, who had been thus far playing a game, had remained amusedly neutral until the last few accusations.

“Tread carefully, dearie. Your guilt and injured feelings over your lover’s abandonment gives you no license to goad me using my own child.

“He didn’t abandon me. He saved Reynard and Belle, and even you. I’ll bet that kills you.”

“Actually, it quite amuses me. All those wasted centuries, and he accomplished the opposite of his life’s goal.”

Emma could feel the fight in her sparking, and her hands warmed with magic. “Yeah? We’ll see who has the last laugh. You’re still in a dungeon.”

“And yet, we’re still both alone.” Gold’s smile was melancholy. “Funny, that. You know, I was going to offer my aid in disposing of Madam Mim, in exchange for my freedom, but now I think I won’t.”

“We don’t need help that badly,” Emma laughed coldly.

Gold shrugged. “Perhaps I will take my chances with her, should she win. Do keep Belle and Reynard out of your conflict, won’t you? I’d hate to see them suffer through yet another of your ‘heroic’ endeavors.”

Storybrooke

Present Day

       Emma was pulled away from the dreams, the memories, by the buzzing of her phone, a call.

       She plucked the cell from the charger and brought it to her ear, whispering groggily, “Hello?”

       “Hi Emma,” Mary Margaret said in a normal voice, and Emma could hear Neal making cheerful noises in the background.

       Glancing beside her, Emma saw Killian hadn’t woken. Lowering her voice even more, she uttered, “Mom, please. It’s six in the morning,” she said, peering at her alarm. “Could you keep it down?”

       “Sorry,” Mary Margaret said contritely. “I didn’t realize you had Adi in the bed with you.”

       Throwing off the sheets, Emma left the bed and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. “No, it’s not…just…Never mind. What’s up?”

       A loud squeal of delight came through the cell. “It’s Hook. Hook stayed with you last night! Didn’t he?” Mary Margaret crowed. “Tell me everything.”

       Using the dimmer switch on the bathroom lights, Emma’s eyes adjusted. Checking the mirror, she ran a hand over her hair. “There isn’t much to say, mom.”

       Honestly, there really wasn’t. She hadn’t invited him over with the idea of him spending the night specifically in mind, but…

       She’d returned from another enraging conversation with Gold to find Killian in the hallway, anxiously listening for Ariadne, and he’d been displaying the qualities of the man who held her heart – both literally and figuratively. Her true love, just shining through the cool stranger who’d returned to her.

For a sliver of time, he was just Killian, and she was just Emma

       And instead of letting things progress naturally, at their own pace, she’d responded with the same blunt, impulsive recklessness of their kiss in Neverland, throwing them right into the middle of it without any forethought.

       In fact, most of it had been reminiscent of their kiss in Neverland, right down to Killian’s stunned reaction.

       He had been holding back from her emotionally, though. She knew him well enough to tell.

       “Let me guess,” Mary Margaret said. “ ‘It’s been a while, you were feeling good’?”         

       “No, it was more than that,” Emma replied, a ghost of a smile beginning on her mouth. She may have been more in tune with her father, but occasionally, Mary Margaret could practically read her mind.

       “So…are you two back together?” asked Mary Margaret hopefully.

       Ever the optimist, her mother. “I don’t know about that, yet. We’re figuring it out. It’s going to take time, mom. But he said he...he’s staying. So that’s something.”

       “Good, good,” Mary Margaret enthused. “That’s good he wants to stay with you.”

Emma knew the truth: Killian was probably more invested in Ariadne than her. Which was fine. Adi could win anyone over in a few days.

But Emma and Killian’s relationship had been built on more than gurgles, gummy smiles, and teething rings. It would therefore take time to rebuild.

Emma was more than prepared to spend that time, and now that Killian was willing to meet her halfway…

They had a start.

“Yeah, I know. I think it’s a good sign,” she agreed. “First, we have to focus on Mim, though.”

“Very true. All right, then I better let you go. Neal’s getting antsy.  When do you want to meet and plan for today?”

       “Can you come over in, like, a couple hours or so?”

       “See you soon, honey.”

       Hanging up, Emma decided to jump into the shower before Ariadne started screaming. She had to take her moments when they were available, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the bedroom to see Killian stirring.

       Going to the bed and sitting beside him, tucking her robe about her, she smiled and threaded her hand through his hair. “Hey, tiger. You can go back to sleep. Sun’s not even up. I know you like to get up early, but we can relax for a bit before Ariadne’s awake.”

       It was doubtful he’d gotten enough sleep. Ariadne had nursed twice that night, and both times, Killian had brought her into the room for a feeding and then taken her back to the nursery. Emma had conditioned herself to fall back asleep quickly; Killian, probably not so much.

        Emma was quickly realizing romantic mornings weren’t really going to be a ‘thing’ with a baby in the house.   

       Taking her wrist, he drew her fingers from his hair and kissed them. “No, you’re correct. I’m usually awake at this time, anyway, love. Good morning.”

       “Good morning to you, too,” she said, tentatively.

       Their conversation had been limited during the times Ariadne had woken them up; too drowsy and absorbed with baby care to do much more than mumble at one another.

But now, with just the two of them, Emma couldn’t just ignore it. She didn’t want to.

It was odd, feeling the aftereffects of a second-first-time together. Maybe she shouldn’t have let herself get carried away, maybe they hadn’t been ready…

She had a kid with him, this was ridiculous! She shouldn’t feel this amount of uncertainty.

       “Everything all right, Swan?” he asked, absently playing with the sleeve of her robe.

       Well, he didn’t seem to be second-guessing anything. But how could she be sure?

This had been so much easier back when they’d first started dating, when he’d made his exact feelings clear.

       How did she apologize for pinning him to the wall and asking him to stay the night with her, without metaphorically sweeping him off his feet, or giving him an explanation, or even asking if he wanted a cup of coffee (ha) first?

       She was bad at this. Even in love, she was just so terrible at this.

“Yeah. I just-I hope I didn’t rush things last night, maybe I didn’t-”

       “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you did.” Then, he looked troubled. “That is, if you are.”

       The old Emma might have run, but if there was one thing being in love with Killian Jones had shown her, it was how to be courageous about her feelings.

       “I am.”

       Killian exhaled softly. “Good.” Reaching out, he tucked a piece of wet hair behind her ear.

       To lighten the mood, she took a decorative pillow and hit his side lightly. “Well, you can take a shower if you want. I’ll show you how to run the water.”

       “No need, love. I know how to helm the levers. Mr. Smee allowed me to use the one in his home a few times already. Fascinating technology.”

       “Okay. Well, it’s right in there,” she said, pointing to the door. For some reason, it made her sad. This was the house he’d chosen, and only now was he getting to live in it. “I’ll make breakfast in a little bit. My mom is coming over soon.”

       “What about Adi?”

       “When she wakes up, we’ll know it. Trust me.”

       “Ah, yes. The baby monitor. How could I forget?” Killian kissed her cheek, smiling, and disappeared into the bathroom.

       While she dug through a dresser drawer of jeans, she could hear the water begin to run.

       After she was dressed, Emma entered Ariadne’s nursery and began to put her diaper bag together, hoping to have everything ready to go before her mother arrived.

       When she left the room, she found Killian in the hallway, searching for her. He had her phone in hand, and only then did she remember setting it on the counter of the sink after talking with Mary Margaret.

“Killian?”

“Love? Your left your device in the bathroom, and it’s making noises.”

       “Ah, thanks.” Taking the cell from his hand, Emma swiped the green symbol. “Hello?”

       “Ms. Swan? Two things. One, next time you send a pirate corpse into my morgue, a little heads-up would be appreciated.”

       Right. She’d forgotten to tell the hospital, in all the excitement over Graham. “Sorry, Whale.”

       “Second, we found Mother Superior unconscious and tied up in an equipment closet. We were able wake her, but you better get here fast.”

One Year Ago

The Underworld

While Emma changed into her pajamas, Killian turned down the covers and adjusted Emma’s pillow to the angle she liked.

She noticed immediately, coming to his side and smiling into the side of his face as she kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to spoil me.”

“Who says I’m spoiling you? Maybe I’m spoiling the baby,” he told her, playfulness hiding his ongoing compunctions. There was nothing he could do to make up for what he’d done to her and her family.

More seriously, he continued, “Speaking of, how was the baby today?”

Arm resting over his shoulder, she circled him until she was facing him, then pushed him lightly so he sat down on the bed. Seating herself comfortably on his lap, a knee on either side of him, she smiled.

“The baby’s fine. I mean, as far as I know. No bleeding, no pain. I still have nausea, and I’m tired, but that’s normal.”

“And your magic?”

“Oh. You noticed that.” Taking her hands from his shoulders Emma shifted back. “Yeah. I guess…I don’t know. When I try to use it, it feels way stronger than it usually does, but – ten seconds later, I’m drained. If I had to guess, it’s taking a lot of energy to grow this little guy. Or girl.”

She gave her stomach an awkward, slightly embarrassed pat, as if unfamiliar with the gesture. Then he realized that while bearing Henry, she had probably not allowed herself such bonding moments.

Oh, Emma, my darling. I’m so sorry.

Turning his wrist, he placed his hand over hers, which held her palm in place on her stomach. “Yeah?” he asked, inviting her to continue.

“So yeah, my magic is a bit wonky, but that’s not exactly a medical issue.”

Sighing, he rested his head against her collarbone. “I wish we could bring you to a doctor. Robin showed me there are even ways to get pictures, of a sort. I just want to know you and the little one are well.” He could...Perhaps he could ask Milah if Hades would be open to a trade. Letting the others go back to the land of the living, in exchange for the crystal.

However, he was reluctant. The most discreet and clever poker players knew not to show their hand too early, even if they were holding good cards. Hades might be more likely to send the hydra after them, than agree to a deal.

And yet, what good was an escape route with the Pegasus sail, if Emma’s name was still etched in the graveyard?

“You get to watch everyone you love die.” That broken sense of glee.

He suddenly became aware of his hand, moved away from hers and tightly clutching a portion of her shirt, his breathing slightly irregular.

“Hey, we’ll get there. Killian, are you okay?”

Her hands were on his face, stroking and soothing, and he nodded on automation. “Absolutely, love. As long as you’re all right,” he told her, encircling her waist with his arms.

She frowned, and he cursed himself. If he expected to hide his demons from her, he had to work harder at it. Emma knew him as well as he knew her.

“You sure? I think we maybe need to talk ab-”

There was a rattling, then a squeak of hinges as the bedroom door flew open.

Belle, in a borrowed set of Emma’s pajamas, stomped inside, furious. Killian did not have to wait long for an explanation of the intrusion, as the crocodile soon followed.

In the midst of a heated discussion, the pair seemed to disregard Killian and Emma’s presence, and Emma’s eyes widened as she quickly slid off Killian’s lap.

“I don’t want to hear it, Rumple,” Belle was saying. “Dark magic isn’t going to help our baby.”

“Belle, I understand why you think that, but I told you. It’s who I am. And who I am is a man who will save his child. Maybe you don’t like the methods, maybe you don’t like the cost, but this isn’t the time to debate morality. The baby’s life is at stake.”

She whirled on him and stuck out her finger accusingly. “Yeah, because of Dark Magic!”

“Hey, Gold,” Emma broke in. “What is going on? How did you get in here?”

“I teleported with magic. I needed to speak with Belle.”

“By breaking into my house, naturally,” Killian grunted irritability. “I think it’s time you let the lady be.”

There was so much more he desired to impart to the Dark One. “You pathetic excuse for a coward, we had destroyed the darkness. How could you bring it back?” Or, perhaps, “Selling your own child is the reason you’re in this fix to begin with.”

But honestly, Killian knew he was no better. What good was it to accuse a mirror?

Besides, right now, Belle and her welfare should be his focus, not the feud.

“Pirate, consider silence, or be silenced,” Rumpelstiltskin said warningly.

“Rumple, stop,” Belle commanded. “This is between you and me. I have a plan, and I don’t need your help right now. That’s all there is to it. So-”

“What – what plan?” scoffed the crocodile. “Their plan? The fools who thought it a good idea to come to the Underworld?”

“My plan. I just need to get that contract from Hades.”

Belle was flaunting her fearlessness before the predator, and it briefly terrified Killian.

Emma’s thigh, which was alongside Killian’s, stiffened as she tensed. Apparently, she was already aware of Belle’s plan, and didn’t like it.

“When you decide you want to help me, the right way, you can,” Belle continued. “Until then, I…I don’t want to see you.”

“Sweetheart, Hades is not a man to be trifled with. You mustn’t-”

“Well, you haven’t really given me a choice, now have you?”

A madness, one Killian recognized well, flitted over the Dark One’s face. The man may have loved Belle, but the creature did not. It took what it wanted, always.

Disbelief at his own choice hitting him, the choice to appeal, Killian said, “Listen, I understand now what it’s like.” If there was anything left of Rumpelstiltskin, the spinner who loved his family, Killian was addressing that person now; not the crocodile. “It’s right there, telling you what to do, how to act. Don’t listen to it.”

       Turning weary, ancient eyes on him, the Dark One said, “But you see, captain, the thing is…I want to.”

       To Belle, he said smoothly, “Belle, when you’re done begging help from the amateur clan, you know where to find me. I can promise you that no one will fight for a child like its father. We will be a family.”

       A second later, a swirl of smoke enveloped him, and he was gone.

       Belle, burying her face in her hands, stifled a sob. “I’m…I’m sorry I had to involve you in that. He came into my room, and I…”

       Emma lifted herself from the bed. “Hey, hey, Belle, nothing to apologize for. We’re here for you.”

       Belle’s lip wobbled, and Emma glanced helplessly to Killian.

       Getting to his feet, Killian went to his friend and placed an arm around her. “Belle, it’s going to be all right, really,” he comforted. “We’ll help you with whatever your plan is, I swear it. Anything you need.”

       At his words, Belle’s eyes freely released the tears she’d tried to contain, but there was also hope in her expression. She took hold of Killian’s wrist, earnestly looking up into his face. “Then you and Emma will take my baby?”

       Initially, he agreed without thinking. Belle’s desperate demeanor pulled at him, and all he desired was to help his friend. But then, her words registered with him.

“Aye – Wait, what did you say?” Why would he and Emma take Belle’s child?

       “She wants to replace Hades’ name with mine on the contract,” Emma explained quietly. “I told her I thought it would be best to find another option first.”

       Killian took a breath, then looked Belle directly in the eye. “Love, the truth is, right now Emma is stuck down here, as much as your baby. Hades carved her name into a gravestone. I think the best course of action is to find another solution, as Emma suggested.”

       Belle seemed ready to insist for a moment; some of the fierce stubbornness she’d meted out to the Dark One was about to land squarely on Killian.

But when she spoke, her voice was tinged with sorrow. “I’m just so afraid for my baby.”

Emma looked to Killian with a meaningful, distinct imploring that spoke volumes. She wanted to share their secret with Belle, to commiserate with the despairing woman.

While Killian didn’t love the notion of spreading the news, it moved him that Emma would first consult his feelings on the matter. A true partner, in every sense of the word. He gave a slight nod to show he conceded to her decision.

       “And I’m afraid for mine, too, Belle,” Emma said.

       “Your…” Belle’s brow lowered perplexedly. “Wait, are you saying you’re-”

       “Yeah.”

       “Oh…oh.” Belle, for all her love of words, struggled to find her voice as she looked from Emma to Killian. “But if you can’t leave the Underworld, then…”

       “Yeah,” Emma said again.

       “Please, don’t tell anyone. Especially your husband,” Killian put in. “If Hades finds out-”

       “He won’t,” Belle vowed. “Not from me.” Interested now, she peered at Emma’s midsection; though there wasn’t yet anything to see, even beneath the flannel Emma wore. “Um, how far along are you?”

       “Maybe about two months. How long have we been down here? I’ve kind of lost track.”

       Belle thought. “A week or two, I think. Maybe a week and a half. I lost myself a bit in my research while you were gone. I was looking for ways to get Rumple home.” Disgusted, she folded her arms. “You know, for a few days, I thought we’d done it. I thought we’d finally gotten our fresh start, with no darkness. I’m so stupid.”

       “Okay, Belle, loving someone, believing in another person’s goodness…it isn’t stupid. It’s really brave,” Emma said. She seemed as though she wanted to reach out to Belle, but held herself stiffly instead. “Maybe it doesn’t always work out, but it’s not stupid.”

       With a smile, Belle pulled Emma into a quick embrace. “Thanks, Emma.”

Then, scrubbing at her face, Belle yawned. “And thank you both for letting me stay here, but it’s suddenly hitting me how tired I am. I’m going to try to go back to sleep. Goodnight, you two.” She paused, carefully. “And for what it’s worth, congratulations on the baby.”

“Thank you,” Killian told her.

       “ Night,” Emma added warmly.

After the door had closed behind Belle, Emma shuffled back to the bed, collapsing onto the mattress. Killian could see her fighting sleep. “Ugggh,” she moaned into the pillow. “Belle’s not the only one ready to drop. I feel like I just ran into a wall.”

“Tired?” he ventured.

       “Yes. And I’m really thirsty,” she said, sitting up again.

       “Just lie back, love. I’ll bring you something. What do you want?”

       A little more lively upon hearing his offer, she said, “Water. No, juice. Or iced tea. Please?”

       Seven minutes later, he came back to the room with a tray and three different beverages in glasses.

       Emma was sound asleep, her forehead knit deeply as some distressing dream or nightmare tangled her thoughts.

       Placing the tray on their dresser, he slipped in bed beside her and lifted the covers over them, wishing he could give her peace.

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

       Present Day

       Killian had the absurd impulse to hum as he stepped into the shower.

       The water spray was warm and inviting, but he hurried through the process as quickly as he could. After all, he wanted to be there when Adi awoke.

       A grin was fighting its way to the surface, and it suddenly hit him.

       He was happy.

       Even lacking sleep, facing a dangerous, magical foe, occupying a house that he’d only visited once before, with a woman he was still getting to know and a child who probably did not yet differentiate his face from anyone else’s, he felt…

       He belonged. Swan had told him he could be a part of something important, and for the first time, he truly realized what that meant.

       Finding Ariadne in the middle of the night when she cried, waking to see Emma’s glorious face and not the endless, bleak expanse of Neverland’s seas…

       He wasn’t alone.

       He felt alive again.

       Swan, she hadn’t given up on him. Even though she’d said I can’t take the chance I’m wrong about you. Even though he’d said I’m done with you.

       Even though he’d been nothing short of a hindrance to her since his return.

       Ever since arriving in Storybrooke and hearing Emma’s tales, he’d often wanted to ask her, Was it really worth it? All those pains and difficulties we endured to arrive at this stage, wouldn’t it have been easier to not be together? Why put yourself through all that again? What is the point of the torment and heartache?

       This morning, he had arrived at the answer all on his own.

       It was most definitely worth every trial, even the ones he couldn’t remember.

       Stepping out of the shower, he toweled dry and grabbed his clothing and hook. For convenience’s sake, and assuming Swan would want him around the house on a consistent basis, he might eventually have to bring a few sets of clothing from the Jolly.

       The thought made him smile all over again.  

       As Killian was finishing the last of the clasps of his vest, shrill music blasted from nowhere, startling him. Stumbling back against the wall, he crashed into the towel rack, dislodging one end of the bar from the wall fixture.

       Chagrined, he replaced the bar in the cradle, and faced the unremitting noise.

       He did the mash, he did the monster mash! a nasal voice sang, and Killian finally noticed Emma’s cell phone by the basin, shaking energetically on the marble surface as it discharged the awful music.

       Emma.

       Emma could make it stop.  

       Device in hand, he wandered through the bedroom and into the hallway, where he noticed Swan emerging from the nursery, closing the door softly behind her.

       Catching sight of him, she said, “Killian?”

       “Love?” Displaying the phone, he explained, “You left your device in the bathroom, and it’s making noises.” Loud noises.

“Ah, thanks.” Hand brushing his as she took it from him, Emma expertly answered the call. “Hello?”

She listened for a moment, then winced at whatever the speaker said. “Sorry, Whale.” As she continued to listen, she suddenly went pale.

“We’ll be there as fast as we can,” she said abruptly. “In the meantime, make sure she’s okay, and see if you can find out what happened.”

Pushing the phone into her pocket, Emma spat a rather impressive oath. Then, grabbing his shoulders, she looked him straight in the eye. “Killian, listen. I need to call my parents and Regina. Do you remember how to change the baby’s diaper?”

“Aye, I can manage it, Swan.” She’d given him a demonstration the night before, and while it did not rank high among desirable parent duties, he gladly would do it. Even if the concept of diapers that were meant to be disposable confounded him.

“Okay. Good. Change her, put her in some clean cloths – Um, something with long sleeves. It’s still chilly outside. Pants and socks, too. Brush her hair. On the floor, there’s a dotted red bag with her things in it, like diapers and stuff. Grab that too, please. I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she rapped out, giving him instructions almost faster than he could follow.

“Wait, love.” He ran his hand along her arm. “What’s happened?”

Strained, Emma explained, “Someone found Mother Superior locked up and unconscious in the hospital.”

“But, who…” Killian went down a mental checklist of suspects. Astrid had been there. But she had been in their sight for nearly the whole time, hadn’t she? How could she have anything to do with it?

 “I’d best go retrieve Ariadne,” Killian said at last, and Emma nodded tightly. “Swan, to whom are we entrusting her while we conduct our search?”

“I’m hoping to leave her with Graham and Lily at the hospital. It’ll be a good excuse for me to make him to stay put. He looked like crap yesterday; there’s no way he’s fully recovered yet.”

Ah, the ever-blunt Swan. “Sounds reasonable.”

Checking her watch, Emma said, “I’ll be downstairs, contacting the others. Call me if you need help. She’ll probably be a bit fussy, since you’re waking her up, so if she cries a bit don’t worry.”

She gave him a quick, determined kiss and hurried for the stairs, already bringing her phone to her ear.

Heading in the opposite direction, Killian let himself into the nursery.

He went directly to the dresser, having already deduced that attempting to hold a wriggly baby with one arm, while trying to open drawers and pick out clothing with the other, was not a wise or even safe venture – particularly with a hook involved.

Thankfully, he found a coordinating outfit easily. Despite the severity of the situation, he couldn’t help but grin as he saw the words on the dark blue top. Sailor in training, it bragged, the ‘o’ replaced with a ship’s wheel.

 Perhaps he as thinking too deeply about it, but it seemed Emma, at least some ways, wanted Ariadne to take after him.

 It was truly a humbling concept.

While he was searching for a pair of socks, he found a charming white bow, and added it to the ensemble tucked in his arm.

When he had gathered the necessary items, he brought the articles of clothing to the changing table, then backtracked to the crib, pausing momentarily to tenderly assess its inhabitant.

“All right, lass, it’s time to wake,” he crooned, scooping up Ariadne as smoothly as he could. “A new day has begun.”

The baby protested weakly; a faint mewling, half-opening an eye, and then stubbornly closing it again. Holding her to his chest, he swayed towards the changing table and laid her on the mat.

“Now please, have pity on me, love,” he pleaded as he began his work. “I’ll do my very best; but remember, I am still learning.”

To his surprise, the process went relatively well, though he did have to improvise by carefully lifting her feet with his hook a few times. After her fresh diaper was secured, he struggled a bit with the tiny snaps at the bottom of her sailor garment, but soon had her dressed to Emma’s specifications. Her hands waved in the air as she expelled quiet, babbling sounds.

“There, now. That wasn’t so bad,” he said, pride swelling in him as he brushed her hair and added the bow. But she was an exceptional baby, this one. “We can show your mother how well you did, aye?”

Ariadne yawned, then smiled, grabbing her toes and tugging at her socks.

And just like that, Killian realized he loved her.

She’d appeared in his live overnight, and somehow his initial shock and reluctance had transformed into the understanding that Ariadne Jones was someone he could not live without.

“No, love, those stay on,” he reprimanded quietly, gathering her in his arms and pressing his cheek against the soft, dark hair.

As he was preparing to leave he nursery, he spotted her lion; a faded, crumpled yellow heap on top of the dresser.

“Wouldn’t want to forget that,” Killian chuckled, collecting it and then handing it to the baby. “Time to go, now. Let’s get your satchel.”

He winced as he lifted the burdensome diaper bag. “I swear it, lass, you travel with more belongings than that countess whose ship I once…”

Voice trailing off, he glanced down regretfully at the innocent blue eyes. “Well, never mind that, hmm? We’ve new memories to make, don’t we?”

She chirped agreeably, taking hold of his necklace; and then they were off, down the staircase and into the kitchen, where the first rays of dawn were spilling in through the windows.

Emma, still on her phone, was pacing around the table. “Yep. No, Graham, don’t get up. We will be there soon. No, wait for us, please.” She stopped in her tracks, pushing a hip out and resting her hand on it, frustration evident. “Because we don’t know how or why Blue was attacked, that’s why! For all we know, this could be a trap! Look, why don’t you let me talk to Lily…You promise? Okay. Okay, good. We’ll meet you in your room, and go from there. Thanks. Bye.”

 She shoved the phone into her pocket, muttering something about stubborn men. When she noticed Killian and Ariadne waiting for her at the threshold of the kitchen, she broke into a smile. “I’ve finished with those calls. We’re meeting my parents and Regina in Graham’s hospital room.” Opening the cooling cube – the refrigerator, he reminded himself– Emma withdrew two small containers and crossed the tile until she was standing before Killian and Ariadne.

“Did you behave yourself for your dad, kid?” she inquired of the baby, shaking the bottles vigorously.

“She didn’t even cry,” Killian boasted, gazing down with delight at Ariadne.

“Well, you did a good job. You even have her in an outfit that matches, which is more than I can manage most days.” Twisting the lids of one of the bottles, she offered (with a suspicious amount of regret), “Protein shake? It’s not gourmet, I know. But it’ll keep you full for a while.”

It looked and smelled absolutely horrific. But, after all the effort she’d gone to for him thus far, he could surely tolerate whatever swill was in the bottle. “Thank you, love,” he said as enthusiastically as he could. “That would be wonderful.”

Her responding smile, a smile he had ushered in, was something he’d never be tired of seeing. “I promise we’ll do the romantic breakfast thing next time,” she said. “Right now, though, we have to get to the hospital before Graham tries to handle everything all by himself.”

“Ahh. One of those, is he?” Killian asked as Emma relieved him of the diaper bag and placed the protein shake in his hand. “My brother was like that.”

“I remember,” she chuckled, lifting the strap across her shoulders. Retreating to the refrigerator again, she opened the smaller door on the top, and removed a few bags of frozen, white milk. “Though, I shouldn’t say much, since I’ve been known to do the same thing.”

“Swan, about Graham-”

He stopped. Now was not a suitable time to ask such a question. Or, more honestly, perhaps he just didn’t want to know.

“Yes?”

“It’s not important, love,” he said hastily, wishing he could retract the words.  

She didn’t seem very convinced, but allowed him to defer, letting go of the issue. “Oh. Right, then let’s get going. Could you grab Ariadne’s boots and jacket for her? They’re in the closet over there.”

“Straight away, Swan,” he said, shifting Adi to his other arm and walking with her to the closet.

“Killian?” Emma said from behind him.

He slid the closet door open with his foot, responding, “Yes, love?”

Spotting a pair of wool-lined booties haphazardly lying on a shelf, he set his ‘breakfast’ aside and took one of the adorably small boots. How was he to distinguish which went on which foot? Visually, they looked to be the same shape, and the only quantifying sign was a stitched label on the heel reading ‘Ugg’.

Unless that was a foreign language meaning ‘left’ or ‘right’, it meant nothing to him.

“Graham and I weren’t dating, you know,” Emma said, and he turned quickly.

Perhaps she hadn’t let it go completely, then. “I wasn’t…” He fumbled over the words. “It’s not my business to-”

She slid beside him, taking the bootie from his hand and sliding it over Ariadne’s sock. “I mean, it kind of is,” she continued, avoiding his eyes. “You see, we’re…Graham – he’s a great person. I like him a lot. And the way he’s helped me out over the past year…it’s meant a lot to me. He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. But he knows where I stand.”

Collecting himself, he arranged his thoughts. “Swan, you needn’t explain yourself, even had you been courting him. Especially considering the amount of time I’ve been gone,” Killian said as he took the other boot, wriggling it around Adi’s foot until it was in place. “A period of grieving can be cleansing, but a lifetime of mourning is not. I doubt my former self expected or wished that of you.”

Emma settled her hand over his, and together they cradled Adi’s small foot. “You’re right. You told me, right before…You told me to move on, when I was ready,” she said, voice heavy and somber. “Right before-”

Then, coming to the present, she pointed out Ariadne’s coat. “Could you, uhh…”

Sliding the jacket from the hanger, Killian and Emma soon had the baby bundled and ready.

“Well, shall we then?” Killian invited, hoping to keep her from dwelling on whatever painful memories she was experiencing.

As he started forward, Emma jumped hurriedly into his path, and said, “Wait.” Hands sliding down his chest, she looked at him, lips twitching as she built herself up to tell him something.

Ariadne, seeing her mother, dimpled happily and began to reach for a handful of blonde hair.

Catching and releasing a breath, Emma said, “I know we’re in a rush, but there’s something you should know before we – ouch, Adi, let go! -before we leave. I wanted to wait before I told you, give you more time to adjust; but because my mother is inevitably going to ask you about it, I just don’t want you to be blindsided.”

“By what?” He asked, curiosity piqued.

“You and I got married in the Underworld,” Emma disclosed in a clipped, rushed tone that suggested it was something bothersome, to be brushed under the rug; as though it meant little.

It meant everything.

Something startling, new, and not unwelcome pulsed pleasantly through him, and a smile tugged at his mouth. He had a wife, Emma was his wife.

He had to force himself to concentrate on the remainder of what she was saying. “Obviously things are different for us now. I mean, it’s not like we ever got any official documents drawn up, so if you decide you want to have it annulled or or get divorced or whatever, we won’t have any legal hoops to jump though. If you want out, you can tell me right now.”

If you decide…how much that single word bared Swan’s soul. Evidently, she had no desire to dissolve their marriage, and assumed that he did.

“Swan.” He didn’t mean to cut her short, but she seemed on the verge of panicking. He debated teasingly flicking some of her hair back with his hook, but in the end decided to present a more serious air, and took a moment before choosing his words.

“A choice like that isn’t one to be made quickly or lightly. Certainly not one that can fit into a simple yes or no answer,” he said, breathing sincerity into every word. If he hesitated or wavered even a bit, she would think he didn’t mean it. “I – what I said yesterday still stands. I am here for you and the baby. Instead of making any drastic decisions about our marriage-”

Emma flinched a bit at how readily he said the word ‘marriage’, which he had anticipated; but he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the term the same way she was trying to.

“-let’s first continue forward, and see what the future holds for us. I would hate to get my memories back and realize I renounced the vows I made to you.”

 Her face lost its stiffness, replaced by cautious optimism. “You…don’t want to end it, then?”

“I don’t see why we should.”

Her mouth hardened again, and she closed herself to him. “That’s…ambiguous, Killian. What do you want?”

Ariadne began to wriggle in his arm, and Swan’s captivating green eyes held him.

What he wanted was for every morning to be like this one.

Given the short amount of time he’d known Swan, he shouldn’t already want that, but he did.

“Did I propose to you, lass, or was it the other way around?”

Caught a bit off guard by the question, she studied him in bafflement. “You asked me. Why?”

Satisfied, he leaned forward and kissed her above the brow. “Then, there is your answer, Emma.”

She paused, and with every second that passed, her cynicism faded into trust. “You really believe it,” she stated in wonder, eyes poring over his face.

“Believe what, Swan?”

“Us, Ariadne, the last few years you can’t remember. You finally believe, don’t you? For real.”

Though he knew she viewed it as something positive, he couldn’t help but feel hurt. “Indeed I do – I wouldn’t have presumed to stay here last night if I didn’t.”

Sighing, she swayed even closer and ran the back of her hand down his cheek. “No, you would’ve turned me down, wouldn’t you? You’re a good man, even when you’re not trying to be.”

 Though he still wasn’t convinced that fact was true, a warm glow settled in him.

“C’mon, we have to go,” Emma said, tugging at his arm and dodging Adi’s grasping fingers. “Mom and Dad are probably already in their way to the hospital.”

Once in the bug, Emma placed her hands on the wheel and forced herself to clear her mind of everything except the information from Whale. Though overjoyed that Killian was finally convinced of the truth, they’d already spent enough time delaying.

“So, how do you think the Blue Fairy came to be imprisoned in the hospital?” Killian asked. He thumbed at the belt strap across his chest, and every once in a while, she noticed he’d glance in the rear-view mirror at Ariadne’s car seat, as though to reassure himself.

“I don’t know,” Emma said, increasing their speed to ten miles faster than the limit. The air was heavy with mist, and she flicked on the windshield wipers, watching the road carefully in the headlight beams. “We’ll have to check their surveillance footage, but even that can be erased or altered with magic. I don’t know if Mim knows that, though. What I want to know is when Blue was attacked and shoved into the closet. Was it after we left, or-”

“Or before we arrived,” Killian finished grimly.

“That’s what worries me,” Emma agreed. “The more I think about it, the more I’m wondering if the Mother Superior we talked to yesterday was really even Blue or not.”

Even as she spoke, the pieces clicked together in her head, and Emma stomped on the brakes. The vehicle bucked, screeching with complaint, and finally skidded to a halt.  “Oh, no. Oh. No no no no…Killian, whoever she was, she went back to the convent. With the other fairies.”

Which meant either she’d had access to her fellow fairies…

Or they’d had access to her.

Either situation was horrible to contemplate.

“The dagger. Bloody – she tried to make us give her the dagger. It must have been Mim in disguise.”

In a weak, faint voice, Killian continued, “Swan…she saw the babe use her magic…She almost convinced us to hand Adi over to her.”

So rarely had Emma seen Killian express fear, that she almost didn’t recognize the sharp flare of panic in his eyes and the acute strain on his face – but he was undeniably scared.

And so was she.

They held each other’s eyes for a moment, equally horrified.

Thank god she’d had the foresight to put a protection spell over the house yesterday. Mim could have snatched Ariadne from them in the middle of the night. “Hold on, Killian. We’re turning,” Emma warned, and twisted the wheel.

“Must you keep doing that?” Killian grumbled, grabbing the handle on the door with both hand and hook. He twisted fully in his seat, checking on the baby again.

Emma had long ago installed a head support in the car seat, so she knew Ariadne was safe. That said…

“Killian, what do we do with her?” Emma asked as she straightened the wheel and began their new course. “We can’t bring her to the convent if we’re going to try apprehending Mim.”

“Perhaps one of your parents could take her again?” Killian suggested. “Or even the Evil Queen?”

“They can’t; they’re already on their way to help. Even Robin and Zelena. They’re going to leave Neal and Zeph with Belle.” Emma bit on her tongue, trying to think. “Belle was already attacked while watching Ariadne. I don’t want to risk either one of them again.”

Who else was there? Granny? Aurora, Ashley? Archie? The dwarves were still watching the mines, so even if she decided to consider it, they were busy. Maleficent was probably about to sleep again, after another night of patrolling.

The problem was, Mim would know where to look. Everybody in Storybrooke knew who the allies of the savior were.

“What of Mr. Starkey and Duchess Claire?” Killian suggested as Emma made another turn. “Would she think to look there?”

Emma squeezed the wheel tighter. That…was not a bad idea. “Do you think they’d be okay with it?” She lowered her speed as they came up behind a slow-moving sedan. Come on, move it! She silently willed the driver.

She began to reach for the glove compartment to get the siren, before realizing the noise would probably frighten the baby.

“Mr. Starkey will listen to his captain,” Killian said decisively, with a final glance to Ariadne. “Besides, he seemed fond of the lass. I’ve no doubts he would be willing. It will be the Duchess’ decision. It’s her abode, after all.”

“All right, let’s go find out.” Emma said, losing patience with the car in front of them and passing in the opposite lane.

The Underworld

One Year Ago

“Did you find anything?” Milah asked, as Killian set a cup of coffee in front of her. She’d always preferred it to tea.

He was about to answer her when he realized the question was directed at Emma.

Emma, swiping tiredly at her eye, nodded and opened the door of the refrigerator. She and Regina had been keeping it stocked with the use of magic, though the last few days the responsibility had fallen on Regina.

Early that morning, when Emma had woken Killian with the sound of her vomiting, she’d confided to him that even conjuring simple spells was now exhausting to her. He hadn’t known quite what to do other than beg her not to exert herself.

“We think so,” Emma was telling Milah. “We just…don’t know what it is yet. Did you have any problems with Hades?”

“No, not at all,” Milah responded, testing the heat of her drink with a measuring sip. “We painted and listened to music. He didn’t seem to be in the least suspicious.”

“Good,” Emma hummed, still searching for food. “Milah, what would you like for breakfast?”

“Oh, I already ate, Emma, thank you.”

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Emma said as she extracted a tub of yogurt, peeling the lid back and finding a spoon from the drawer. “Killian, what do you want?”

“Please, Swan, have a seat and don’t trouble yourself. Let me make you something to go with your yogurt.”

“No, you’ve waited on me enough. What’ll it be? I’ll make anything – Except boiled fish,” she amended with a shudder.

Before Killian could reply, footsteps thudded on the stairs, and Belle rushed into the kitchen with a book clutched in her hands. Wearing a pair of Emma’s jeans that were cuffed at the ankle to adjust for the height difference, which made her appear even younger than her years, the lass was nearly bursting with energy.

“So Emma, after I talked to Rumple in the library, I took all the books on pregnancy I could find. Did you know that at two months, the-”

Spotting Milah, she trailed off uncertainly. “Um. Hello. Who is this?”

“I’m Milah,” responded Milah, adding cream to her coffee and stirring it. “You know of Rumple?”

“Know of him?” Belle closed the book and tucked it below her arm. “He’s my husband.”

Milah swirled the spoon a few more times. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, calmly and with no trace of irony. “Did he send you to the Underworld, too?”

“No - Well, I guess technically yes, but-” Twisting at her wedding ring, Belle glanced to Killian anxiously. “You must have…had dealings with Rumple, if he – If you’re here because of him.”

“You could say that. I was his first wife.” Arching her back, Milah draped an arm across the back of her chair, and Killian could see her evaluating Belle shrewdly. “I don’t suppose he told you he killed me?”

“I knew,” Belle said, almost too softly to hear. “I- I’m sorry. I suppose you must think I-”

“You should never worry about what I, or anyone else thinks,” Milah said emphatically. “Now, did I hear that right, you’re going to have a baby?” she asked, pulling out a chair for Belle.

Belle, obviously uncertain as to whether Milah was making genuinely friendly overtures or not, circled the table hesitantly. Killian didn’t blame her. It was a complex situation, and Milah was so assertive that sometimes ascertaining her mood was difficult.

He also knew that in this case, however, Milah was attempting to make her feel at ease.

“Sit down, Belle; I’ll make you some tea,” Killian offered, smiling at her.

He went to fill the kettle, and soon Belle’s voice mingled with Milah’s as they spoke.

Emma joined him by the sink, and whispered, “You know, Storybrooke alone could provide an entire season’s worth of material for the Maury Show.”

Another reference that eluded him, but he nodded anyway. “We do find ourselves in unconventional social situations, don’t we love?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Scooping a portion of her yogurt from the container with her spoon, she playfully plopped it on his nose. “I think you have something on your face.”

“How could that have gotten there?” He asked dryly, taking a disposable towel from the nearby roll and wiping his face.

“Here, you should eat something,” she said, suddenly pushing the chilled carton into his hand. “You can finish the yogurt if you want.”

He didn’t wish to pressure her to eat, but… “Aren’t you hungry, Emma?”

“I tried, but it hasn’t been a very good morning for me,” she smiled faintly. “I’ll still make something for you, though, if you don’t want the yogurt.”

“Not necessarily, love,” he assured her. When would the bloody nausea go away so his Swan could rest and eat properly? Perhaps Belle would permit him to borrow one of her books, to search for a remedy – or, if not a complete solution, temporary relief for Emma.

The teakettle began its quivering whistle, and Killian retrieved it, pouring some into a mug, while he pondered. Perhaps he could tempt Emma with one of those grilled sandwiches she loved so much. He’d seen Granny make them often enough; surely, he could replicate it…

Not wanting to interrupt the conversation between Belle and Milah, which appeared to be serious, he selected several different varieties of tea to bring to Belle.

Approaching the table, he could hear a part of their conversation.

“You see, Belle, Rumple’s best quality is his love for his children. It’s the only reason why I trusted to leave Bae with him, after…You will never find a better or more devoted father. Unfortunately- and I know this will sound odd - it’s also his worst quality. He will stop at nothing, and I do mean nothing, to keep anything from coming between him and the baby. Please, just – be careful.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” Belle said, forehead furrowing beneath her glossy brown hair. “I know he wouldn’t. But the baby comes first. If it comes down to it, I’ll…I’ll do what I have to.”

At that dire statement, Milah gave an approving nod. Then, she tapped Belle’s baby book with her finger.

“But, enough about Rumple. Tell me about how you’re doing. Is this your first pregnancy?”

Killian, sensing it was the right time, stepped forward and lowered the teacup into Belle’s hand.

“Yes, it is...”

Killian backed out of the kitchen, giving them room to talk, and soon found Emma by his side. She slipped her arm around his middle. “Think they’ll be okay?” she whispered.

“I think so.” Her hand trailed up and down his back, which he found relaxing. “They are similar, in many ways.” Maybe not in character, but they both possessed fearlessness and an insatiable need for adventure and discovery.

“Mm,” Emma said thoughtfully, watching the pair with…wistfulness? Loneliness?

“Why don’t you go join them for a few minutes?” He suggested. It sometimes concerned him, that Emma didn’t often allow herself time for female friendship. Her mother and Regina were there, of course; but they were family, and it was not quite the same. She deserved some normalcy in her life; some moments where she could just breathe.

Hand stilling on his back, she considered. “I – no, Killian. We have to – I have to work on our way out of here. I can’t just sit around and chitchat all morning.”

She was trying to take on everything herself again. Didn’t she know by now that he and the rest of her family were here to support her? “Doesn’t have to be all morning. Just until your parents join us,” he encouraged gently.

Her eyes brightened with anticipation, but still she hesitated. “But the crystal. We should try to figure out what it is.”

“How about this: I go to the library and find some relevant books. When I get back, we can all work on research.’

Eyes snapping with indignation, Emma said, “You’re going out by yourself? You’re not just trying to keep me out of the way because of the baby, are you?”

He almost laughed. “Swan, just the opposite. Should things go badly, I’m counting on you to save my worthless hide. But it’s just a trip to the library. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Be careful,” she insisted, holding him tightly. “You’ll come back soon, right?”

“Love, you couldn’t keep me away.” It was a vow, the only one he could give her then.

Her mouth curled up. “I’m holding you to that.”

Emma had the unique ability to sometimes make him feel like they were the only two people in the universe, and right then there was no one else.

“Be back before you know it, Swan.”

Even as she backed away to the table, to join Milah and Belle, her eyes followed him as he exited through the front door.

Storybrooke

Present Day

With Ariadne delivered safely to Starkey and Claire, Emma threw the siren on her vehicle and tore through town, pushing the bug to a clip it hadn’t matched in more than a year.

She fumed. Why did a villain have to make her move now? Why couldn’t Blue have warned Storybrooke about Mim years ago?

Though she trusted Starkey and Claire completely, she didn’t want to just leave Ariadne behind any time a disturbance cropped up. Already this week, she had spent more time away from her baby than she ever had, and she hated it.

(Maybe, whether she admitted it to herself or not, she didn’t want Ariadne to feel abandoned – ever.)

“Swan, do we have a plan?” Killian shouted tersely over the siren, clutching the door desperately as Emma increased speed.

The rain began in earnest, and she moved the wipers to a faster setting.

“Find Mim and take her down,” Emma called back, as buildings whipped by. Luckily, there was very little traffic this early in the morning.

“All well and good, love; but perhaps we need to decide exactly how we’re going to do that. You can be sure we’ll have more than just Mim to contend with. Whatever she’s done to the rest of the fairies, we can’t assume they’ll be our allies.”

“I can handle it,” Emma growled, spotting the road that led to the convent.

“And I don’t doubt that, but if we plan beforehand, we can apprehend her in half the time, with half the struggle.”

Turning the bug, Emma did not immediately answer. She wondered what he would say if he knew her plans for him.  “We go to ‘Blue’ and pretend we don’t know she’s Mim. When her guard is down, we strike. Okay?”

“Simple enough,” he said, and his eyes narrowed briefly before relaxing again.

Emma gripped her steering wheel tighter. Did he suspect…

He couldn’t. True Love or no, he’d known her a matter of days. He couldn’t possibly know her that well already.

 Or could he?

She’d have to be fast, when the time came.

“When we were dropping Adi off, I texted Mom and Graham. I gave Graham the go ahead to talk to the real Blue.”

“Is he in good enough condition for that?”

They raced down the empty road, nearing the convent. They hadn’t run into any magical barriers yet, which was a good sign. “Graham’s tough. And my parents will be there to help him.”

“They’re not joining us?”

“No.” Emma hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. Questions like-

“And you expect me to believe the lot of them were agreeable with us doing this alone?” Killian asked skeptically.

“Look, Killian; we don’t have time to discuss this. This might be the only shot we get. We haven’t been able to keep up with her, and now we have her. We have the advantage. This can’t wait.”

“You’re right, of course,” Killian said smoothly; in retrospect, she would realize he was too calm.

“I also texted Regina, and told her the truth about where we were going. She’ll pass it along, but I also know she won’t do anything rash.”

 At last applying the brake, she brought the bug to a halt and put it in park.

Now for the tricky part.

As she was unbuckling herself, drawing the strap off her chest, she drew her cuffs with her.

While he was occupied with his own belt, Emma struck.

She reached for his hand, knowing that anything less than lightning-quick action would not be enough to best him.

Then, inexplicably, there was a blur before her, and her hand was the one cuffed to the steering wheel.

Sputtering, she stared at it in disbelief, even tugging at it a few times.

During this moment, Killian reached into her pocket and helped himself to her keys.

“My darling wife, did you really think the same trick would work twice?” he asked merrily, swinging the keys around. “Because I learned my lesson up on that beanstalk, you know.”

She lunged for them with her free hand, and he expertly leaned away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

A wild, unacceptable impulse came to her: If she wanted, she could simply knock him out with magic, take the key, and free herself.

But that was dangerously close to something her Dark One self would do, and she would not do it.

“Me? What were you doing, love?” he asked, hurt infusing the words. “You were the one trying to use the shackles. Were you trying to be rid of me?”

“No!” she cried, chest tight. “Don’t you get it?”

“Not precisely, and an explanation would be appreciated.”

His anger stirred her own fiery temper. “We’ve been playing detective for the last couple days, and that’s all well and good; but this is the real deal. Real magic, real danger. Now, hand me that key. You’re staying here while I take down Mim.”

He appraised her, darkly. “You can’t decide that for me. I know what I’m up against, Swan,” he challenged, coldness in his voice.

“Lot of good that did you before, when you ended up dead.”

She hadn’t intended for the words to sound so brittle, so flat. So accusing.

But there they were.

The swirling, stormy tempest in his eyes died down, and he softened, dropping the key into her lap before pressing his hand to the side of her face. “Forgive me, Emma. Sometimes I forget – all that you told me of what has happened.”

“How lucky for you,” Emma said, still unable to make it sound like a joke. Fumbling, she grasped the key and unlocked the cuffs.

“Listen, Swan, I realize that you’re upset with me. We’ll need to talk about that later. And we will. I understand how you feel, but, you also must understand, I do not wish to see you fight this creature alone. And what if she’s turned every fairy in the convent to her will, as she did with Heather and Hailey? Even the savior can’t fight an army.”

“But if you get hurt…I can’t…” she begged, though she knew his mind was made up, and it made no difference. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Losing him again – she couldn’t even contemplate it. The last year had almost destroyed her. It was worse than the foster families, worse than the prison.

“I’ll be fine. I have the savior to protect me, remember?” He teased.

An involuntary shiver coursed through her body.

Months ago, when the Queens of Darkness had entered town, some part of her hadn’t been overly worried. Somehow, she’d thought, none of it could touch her family, the people she loved most in the world. That their bond of Love with one another somehow made them indestructible.

True, in the past they had lost allies and even loved ones – Neal, and others – but to her, the people who were her home, Henry, Killian, and her parents, were exempt. They always found a way, together.

Then Camelot happened, and she saw her error for what it was. None of them were immune, none of them were exempt.

And she wasn’t ready to tempt fate again.

“So, should we get to it?” Killian asked, hook on the door handle. “The sooner we stop Madam Mim, the sooner we can get back to the baby.”

Emma knew he was right. She’d thought it herself; this was the best opportunity they’d yet been given. “Promise you’ll stay behind me.”

“I’ll promise to be careful,” he assured her in the vaguest sense.

Knowing it was the best she’d get from him, Emma grunted and threw open the car door. “Remember, as far as she knows, we still think she’s Blue. Don’t give anything away. With any luck, we’ll have taken her down before she even knows what’s happening.”

“Emma,” he said as she rose out of the bug. “I- I don’t want to lose you either, you know.”

She glanced at him, and saw his eyes were glued to the ground.

When it came to feelings, usually she was the unsure one, the hesitant one; as Dark Hook had no trouble pointing out.

But now, remembering how Killian had given his confession in Echo Cave, she realized that maybe sometimes, it wasn’t easy for him, either.

“Then we agree,” she said, skirting the bug and taking his hand. “Neither of us dies.”

Hand in hand, and without another word to one another, they trod the cobblestones to the entrance of the convent, and Emma knocked rapidly on the door.

It opened to a trio of fairies: Flora, Fauna and Merryweather. Unlike the Disney cartoon, these women appeared youthful, just like their ‘sisters’ in the convent. They smiled delightedly when they saw her.

“Emma, dear!” cried Flora. “What brings you here?”

“Obviously she’s come to see Blue; don’t be such a ninny,” said Merryweather disdainfully. (She called herself the periwinkle fairy, since apparently no two fairies could represent the same color.)

“I know she certainly didn’t come to see you,” Flora shot back.

“You’re just jealous that Phillip Jr. likes me best.”

Tiredly, Fauna said, “Why don’t you two come in. Don’t mind them.”

Emma crossed into the convent as if it were any other day, while she subtly glanced about her surroundings. Certainly, the fairy trio before her were behaving normally – or, as normally as they ever did.

“Thanks, Fauna. We did come to see Blue. Is she around?” Emma asked, smiling easily.

“Of course; she’s here somewhere,” Merryweather assumed them.

Killian, skipping the pleasantries, said abruptly, “Then would you be good enough to find her for us? We are short on time, and wish to return to our child.”

Harsh, and a bit more direct than Emma would have wanted – but very believable, for Killian to say.

…Wish to return to our child…

Not a lie. Any of it.

A bit put out by Killian’s forthrightness, Merryweather pouted. “Yes, yes, we’ll find her. Come with me.”

“Sure, go with her, if you want to get lost!” Flora snorted. “Follow me. I’ll get you to Blue.”

“Enough,” Killian snapped. “You-” he spoke in his captain’s voice, pointing to Fauna. “You can take us to Blue. Let’s go.”

“Me?” Fauna looked to her sisters, who had already resumed their argument. “Of course. This way.”

By now, Emma was becoming very familiar with the convent’s layout. Nothing seemed out of place, and all the fairies were behaving as they always did – quietly carrying out their tasks, gliding seamlessly from one room to the other.

And that – that set her on edge.

With all that had happened to their friends and their home, they should have been tense, been upset or worried, or something.

But they weren’t, and Emma knew it wasn’t just optimism. The fairies moved as if stuck in their own dream.

Fauna was even humming as she brought them to the library.

Not the behavior of a person who knew they were facing an immanent threat, from an evil who was as experienced and clever as Blue herself.

“Blue, Emma and Captain Hook are here to see you,” Fauna called as they entered the expanse of the library.

‘Blue’ had her back to them, pulling one book after the other off the bookcases, hastily scanning the covers before returning them to the shelf.

When Fauna announced them, however, ‘Blue’ straightened and turned to them with a serene smile. “How good to see you, Emma, Captain. Did you bring your daughter? We could begin some magic analysis, if you wish.”

Killian’s muscles bunched, coiling and ready to spring, and Emma could sense a volcanic fury was about to be unleashed. He was likely to charge the fairy if Emma didn’t intervene soon.

“No, not this time, Blue. Just here to see if everything’s all right with the fairies. I’m sure the morale here is down with all that’s been happening.” It seemed like a natural thing to ask, but Emma still had a small kernel of fear that Mim wouldn’t buy it.

If only she could get her to turn her back again…

‘Blue’ gave her a mournful look, with shades of anxiety and even a little reproach thrown in. Emma had to admit, she had Blue’s expressions perfected.

“You really mean that you’re concerned more fairies have defected. Oh, no; I understand,” she hastened to add when Emma allowed her face to fall. “I had the same worries. But I have been here all evening to watch over them, and I can assure you, nothing out of the ordinary has happened.”

‘Watching over them’. Emma almost snorted. Right. Like a lion watching over antelope, maybe. “Well, that’s some good news, at least,” she said, and gestured to the bookcase. “Find anything in there about how to incapacitate rogue fairies without injuring them? I want to give Halley and Heather the benefit of the doubt. I don’t want them to be hurt unnecessarily.”

Mim/Blue gave her something close to a smirk. “Fairies don’t have an equivalent to an Achilles’ heel, if that is what you’re asking. But, if you can get close enough to put a cuff on them…”

Emma, who had been gradually shuffling closer to Mim during the conversation, nodded.

Then, she raised her hands and shot a blast of incapacitating magic.

Mim staggered back, a shield of purple rippling in front of her. Her eyes narrowed coldly, and though she didn’t waste time with words, Emma knew Mim had been expecting the attack.

“Swan, watch out!” Killian shouted, and suddenly Emma was careening through the air. As she spun, she saw a flash of evergreen, and in a heartbeat realized her mistake.

She’d turned her back on Fauna.

Emma’s shoulder crashed painfully to the library floor, and she spun across the floorboards, her back and hips taking the brunt of the tumble.

She came to a stop on her side, just in time to see Killian lunging at Mim, sword drawn and brandished.

Her throat tightened as she tried to scream, strained as she tried to cry for him to stop, because Mim would surely kill him, but her words died in a painful, choked gasp.

Fauna was telepathically choking her.

Rocking to her feet, Emma blasted Fauna backward, into the wall. Immediately thereafter the hold on her windpipe loosened, and Emma could breathe again.

She just hoped she hadn’t hurt Fauna too badly. The fairy would be devastated to know what she’d done, once she was free of Mim’s command.

For Emma was convinced now that the fairies were not joining Mim voluntarily.

But there were more pressing concerns for her; namely, saving her husband.

Killian was diving away from a fireball, and only his fast reflexes and uncanny level of luck kept him ahead of the pace of Mim’s attacks.

Bruised body protesting as she moved, Emma sprinted toward Mim, a primal, instinctive need to protect him driving her.

Mim half-turned, eyes wild with shock. Either she hadn’t expected Emma to neutralize Fauna so quickly, or she saw something in Emma’s face that unnerved her; but either way, her hesitation left Emma an opening.

Summoning the emotion that fueled her magic, Emma felt her fingertips warm with power, and she hurled a streak of energy squarely at her foe.

It may have killed an ordinary being – furious at the attempt on Killian’s life, as well as Mim’s sudden interest in Ariadne, Emma wasn’t holding anything back – but Mim had taken precautions.

An enchantment, in the form of a protective barrier, crackled around Mim as the volley hit. Emma’s attack was so potent, though, that the barrier fizzled and died immediately thereafter, leaving the fairy exposed.

About to go on the offensive before Mim could reenact her protection enchantment, Emma was interrupted as Killian called, “Swan, behind you!”

Emma turned.

Faces blank and wands ready, an army of fairies hovered above her.

One Year Ago

The Underworld

“Belle, come love; I need your opinion,” Killian said anxiously.

Snapping her book closed, Belle sighed long-sufferingly and walked behind the sofa, peering over his shoulder at his volume, which was open on his lap. “What is it, Killian?”

“This section says that data has shown stress can lead to premature birth or low birth weight. And how can Emma…well, and you…not be experiencing stress?”

“Killian.” He could feel her disapproving glare boring into his shoulder. “We are supposed to be reading up on the crystal. And someone upstairs is going to hear you. I thought you and Emma wanted to keep this private for now?”

Naturally, Belle was correct. She generally was.

       In the upper level of his home, the Charmings, Emma, Robin, Regina and Henry were searching for information about the hydra monster, and how to defeat it if necessary.

       He and Belle were similarly charged with learning about the crystal, which was currently secured with a protection spell behind the refrigerator.

       However, after mere minutes of research, Killian had been tempted to pick up one of Belle’s pregnancy books.

       “I know you’re right,” he sighed. “It’s just…Emma and the baby…I’m worried.”

       Belle was silent, waiting for him to continue; although she placed her hand on his shoulder. 

       Provided with a sympathetic ear, Killian found, to his shame, he began to ramble uncontrollably. “Actually, I’m terrified. I’m terrified they will be killed, or that Emma will be taken, and Hades will torture her, as he did me. I’m so terrified, in fact, I’m having trouble focusing because of it. I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream-”

Grunting, he pressed his face into the heel of his hand. Somewhere, the darkness laughed at him.

“Killian, have you told Emma any of this?” Belle asked, walking around the back of the couch and standing before him, so she could look him sternly in the eye. With an expression like that at her disposal, the lass was going to be a terrific mother.

“What? Of course not!” he emphasized. “The last thing she needs right now is to worry about me. She and the baby are what is important.”

Belle seemed as though she was going to argue with him, but she switched tactics. “Yes, they are. But how are you going to help them in this condition? Don’t you think it’s better for everyone if this is out in the open? Emma can help you. She will want to help you.”

“Lass, I know you mean well, but this isn’t about me. It’s about Emma and her safety.” He signaled the end of the conversation by picking up a research volume on mythology. “Please, forget I said anything.”

Not one to be easily deterred, Belle said, “You should talk to her, Killian. You should.”

When he gave a simple nod in reply, she pushed the book down, so he would be forced to look at her. “Do you know how much I would give to have an honest conversation with the other parent of my child right now?”

 Belle’s voice almost cracked on the last sentence, and Killian winced.

Apparently, he wasn’t much better at being a friend than being a father. Belle herself must have been terribly distressed over her own situation. “Belle, I am so very sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Unrelenting, Belle said, “If you’re truly sorry, then prove it. Go talk to Emma, and work through this with her. I don’t want my friends to feel…”

This time, Killian was the one quietly waiting for her to finish speaking. “To feel what, love?”

“As worried about their baby as I am about mine,” Belle admitted in a tiny voice, turning and sitting beside him,

Setting the book in his lap, Killian drew her into a half-embrace. “Belle, you and your baby will be fine, just fine. I swear it to you.” Even if he had to sell his very soul, he meant it.

“But how do you know?” she wondered. “This is the child of the Dark One, which means the baby already has a disadvantage in life. Everything comes with a price, Killian. Especially Dark magic.”

“Because my intuition is telling me that you are going to get home safely,” he attempted to explain, because it was true.

In the same way he had known the Dreamshade was poisonous, before it ever touched his brother’s skin, something told him Belle and her baby would return to Storybrooke unharmed. Perhaps it wasn’t intuition as much as years of accumulated survival skills, begun when he was a mere lad, but it was there all the same.

Belle, however, with her scholarly mind, was not as inclined as Snow to believe in gut feelings and intuitions, and so he crafted it in a way she would relate to.

“See, Belle, I know because I know you. You are smart, resourceful, and brave. And you have the savior as a friend.”

This yielded him a smile, and Belle said, “You give very good advice, Killian. You should listen to it, once in a while.”

While the words sounded scolding, Killian knew she was teasing; and something about the renewed energy with which she stood and gathered the research books made him think she had found a bit of hope.

An hour later, Emma trod downstairs, with the others in tow.

For a moment, he watched her descend, her silky hair loose and tumbling in waves over her shoulders. A faint luster ignited her skin, giving her a radiance that stole his breath.

Perhaps it was her magic, but more likely it was just her.

“Killian?” She prompted, and he continued to admire her, unabashed. She could make even a dead man stare.

       “Aye, love?” he finally said, remembering himself at last.

       Too amused to be exasperated with him, she sighed. “The crystal. Did you guys find anything on it?”

       “Not yet,” Belle said. “We’re working on it. How did you guys do with the hydra?”

       Regina, tapping her finger on the railing in frustration, grunted. “It doesn’t help when there several different accounts of the same myth. Sometimes I wonder if too much information is worse than none. How are we supposed to know which strategy will work?”

       “Too bad we didn’t ask Hercules before he left,” Henry muttered, walking around Belle and Killian and throwing himself tiredly on the sofa. “He’s the one who sent it here.”

       “We were hoping that you and Graham would help us narrow down the possibilities of how it was originally killed,” Robin redirected the conversation, speaking to Killian. “Since you two were the ones who saw the signs of it in the cave.”

       “I am glad to contribute whatever I can, but Graham is the one who noticed it. He is the hunter. If anybody could deduce the beast’s weakness, it’s him.”

       “He’s not exactly a book person,” Regina said, tapping her foot.

       “Well, perhaps he’s changed since you’ve known him,” Killian smarted. “Besides, you were there last night, same as us. You know as much as we do.”

       “My expertise on animals stops after horses,” she replied, tossing her head. “Graham aside, who we should be asking is that pirate woman. She’s interacted with it. She even cleared the path for us last night.”

       “You mean Grandma?” Henry piped up, lifting his face from a throw pillow. “That’s a great idea!”

       “She has proven herself,” David agreed, sliding an arm around Snow’s shoulders. “Can’t hurt.”

       “She left earlier,” Killian said. “But we could go ask her. Her home isn’t far from here.”

       “I’m more concerned with that thing, truthfully,” Belle said, pointing behind them to the kitchen, where the crystal was concealed. “How long until Hades realizes it’s gone?”

       Nobody spoke, until Belle sighed and broke the silence. “I think I should ask Rumple what it is.”

       “No,” Emma said flatly, while Regina rolled her eyes and Snow winced. Killian, for the sake of his friend, kept his face expressionless, but irritation surged within him.

       The lass was the smartest of all of them; couldn’t she see that it would be disastrous to inveigle the company of a demon, when they were already struggling with a devil?

       “Just hear me out,” Belle protested. “He wants to leave here, too. He also wants me to get out of here. We don’t have to give him the crystal, we can use it to barter with him. Information, in exchange for his passage home on the Underworld’s Jolly Roger. He wins, all around. Just the way he likes. Why wouldn’t he agree?”

       “He can’t be trusted, love,” Killian said tersely.

       “But he can be trusted,” Belle said, her mouth perched low in a frown. “To make a deal.”

       “Let’s leave it as a last resort,” Killian suggested, as evenly as possible.

       Regina, glancing at Belle with a mixture of pity and contempt, said, “In any event, we’re nearly out of reference material. Robin, could you take Henry and see if there’s anything else at the library?”

       “Indeed, Regina,” said Robin, who had been studying the cover of one of Belle’s baby books. Most likely he’d been thinking of his unnamed daughter.

Ruffling Henry’s hair, Robin added, “If there’s anything left on Greek mythology, we will find it; right, young man?”

“Yeah,” said Henry with a grin. “We will.”

Henry collected his boots, scarf, and jacket, and Robin his bow and quiver; then they were sent off amid goodbyes and reminders to be safe.

When they were gone, Killian folded his arms and looked to Regina. “Well, love; out with it. What did you not want to say in front of Henry?”

Regina looked to Emma, who sighed.

“Killian,” said Emma, “it’s…the Hydra is dead. Even if we found out how it was killed, what are we going to do? Kill it again? Find out what it needs to move on?”

       “We will figure it out,” said Snow determinedly. “And we will win. After all, it hasn’t even attacked us yet. Maybe we’re worrying about nothing; maybe it will just leave us alone.”

       “And if it doesn’t?” Regina asked grimly. “What then?”

       “We will keep reading,” said David said. “And keep fighting. And keep hoping.” Nodding to the staircase, he said, “Let’s get back to it.”

       Nudging Belle with his elbow, Killian smirked at his friend as the others filed upstairs. “What say you, Belle?” Needing to see her smile, he joked, “Shall we, a humble librarian and pirate, discover the truth about that crystal before those royals can find a way to beat the hydra?”

       “It isn’t a competition, Killian,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I am one of ‘those royals’.” Then, she paused – and she grinned. “If it was a competition, though, we’d win, of course.”

       They were headed back to the sofa when a thump rattled the wall, and Belle jolted in surprise, shoulder bumping into him as she whirled to see the source of the sound.

       The door to the basement quivered, and then everything was abnormally still as Killian and Belle stood unmoving, attention pinned to the door.

       “That’s one of the entrances to Hades’ dungeon,” Killian murmured, drawing his sword and stepping past Belle.

       “What do you think-”

       Belle’s thought was left unsaid, as a sharp crack split the air, and the wall around the door seemed to sag forward.

       Then, the entire stairwell exploded in a destructive cloud of wood, drywall, and dust, throwing parts of the house across the room and into the kitchen.

       As the dust thinned, Killian saw a set of glowing eyes, trained right on him, where the door to the basement had once stood.

       Then, eight more sets of eyes flickered to life.

       Belle, already in motion, was scrambling around the coffee table, gathering books into her arms. Bits of dried paint and plaster clung to her hair like flakes of snow as she rushed.

       “Leave them!” Killian said, catching her arm as she flew by.

       “But we need to know what that crystal does!” Belle argued, wriggling loose. “We can’t lose these!”

       “Forget about them!” Giving her a not-so-gentle push towards the house’s exit, Killian said, “Get outside, now! Go!”

       The floor shook beneath him as the monster began to move towards them. Still, Belle hesitated.

       “Get Graham! And Milah!” Killian shouted at her. “Like we talked about, lass.”

       He knew there was little chance either Graham or Milah would know how to defeat the monster; and even if they did, they wouldn’t arrive in time for it to make a difference.

       But it would get Belle away from the house.

       With a last, frustrated cry, Belle finally did as he requested, turning to flee.

       He had no time to be grateful. The hydra was pushing its way through the wreckage of the stairwell; dense, muscular body carelessly brushing aside the remainders of framework like they were no more than sticks.

       In an effort to keep from provoking it, Killian stood rigidly still, watching and searching for a weak point. He breathed through his mouth, trying to ignore the heavy odor.

       It was perhaps a third again larger than Maleficent in her nonhuman form, and while it’s oily, pungent body did have similarities to a dragon, its nine heads did not.

       They were sleeker, lighter; set upon longer necks, whip-fast and powerful. Each head was hooded like a cobra’s, with sensitive, forked tongues reaching out to taste the air.

       Emma’s baby mobile, having been loosened from the ceiling by a stray projectile from the staircase, finally lost its precarious hold and detached completely.

       The closest hydra head moved faster than Killian could even grasp the hilt of his sword, and the beast caught the mobile in its teeth, dissolving it in a mixture of crushing jaws and venom.

He had no chance of winning. It was too fast; there were too many heads to keep track of.

There was nothing he could do but lead it away from the house.

Taking the closest thing at hand – a baby toy – Killian drew back his arm and threw it roughly, aiming for the nearest head.

It glanced off the hydra’s snout, and the head snapped down to look at him. A low, angry hiss emitted from the mouth, revealing a small glimpse of its fangs.

One touch from those fangs, and he would be-

Or would he? Could the poison affect him, if he was only a soul?

Drawing his sword, he waved the tip in a loop, over and over again. Each of the nine heads danced with the motion, necks swerving. “That’s right, watch the sword,” he sang, backing slowly to the sliding-glass door at the back of the living room.

       There was a sudden commotion from the second floor, where the top of the staircase used to be. Regina, the Charmings, and Emma were there, shouting at the beast.

       Had they lost their minds? Couldn’t they see what he was trying to do?

       Losing interest in the sword, all nine of the hydra’s heads turned, wildly weaving around one another and jockeying for position to get a good look at this new inconvenience.

       Its hoods flared, and raspy hisses filled the air.

       Regina brought a dancing ball of flame to her hand, and heat rippled through the open area as she threw it. Her intended target, a head to the left of the stack, dodged easily; and then with an unnatural shriek that was decidedly not the sound of a snake, the head whipped towards Regina.

       And Emma was right in its path.

       Killian’s body seized in fear as Regina whisked both women away in a cloud of smoke. The hydra’s fangs struck the second-story level with such impact, it ripped away another section of flooring.

       Emma and Regina reappeared, unscathed, a mere body length behind where they had been standing. Robin, relived, grasped Regina’s shoulder to steady her, and David and Snow quickly examined Emma, to see if she’d been nicked by the beast’s teeth.

       All the hydra’s rage was brought to bear on his family, and Killian knew he wouldn’t have a more opportune opening.

       Rushing forward, he drew alongside the creature’s solid frame.

       It had short legs, providing a low center of gravity, and its shoulders were set much higher than its haunches, creating a sloping, uneven back.

       Killian had no idea where the heart might be, or if it even still possessed such mortal trappings, and he didn’t have time to contemplate it.

        Using brute strength rather than the finesse he usually reserved for sword-work, Killian pushed the sword into its lower midsection and began to drag horizontally, hoping to gut it. Perhaps from there, he could find the vitals.

        As the sword disappeared into flesh, it offered very little resistance, and when Killian was finished, he drew the weapon back-

       Only to find that it hadn’t been plunging into the hydra at all; rather, the monster’s acidic skin had acted as a natural defense, eating away the blade. He was left with a hilt, and one very enraged and dangerous monster.

       Shifting on its legs, it swept ponderously about, turning on Killian. So, its body did not possess the swiftness of its necks. A revelation that might have been useful, if he was armed.

       Skittering backward, staying close to its side as it moved, he watched three of the nearest heads swivel to find him, while the other six gauged its enemies on the upper level, perhaps cautious of another fireball.

       When the three wayward hydra heads spotted him, seeming to realize he was defenseless, they reared back.

       He was moving before they could strike, diving and rolling beneath its belly, praying the oils on its skin wouldn’t drip on him.

       “Killian!”

       It was Emma screaming, and he could hear the terror in her voice.

       Heads chasing him into the space between the belly and the floor, Killian continued rolling, clearing the giant body and clambering to his feet, now on the beast’s opposite side.      

       Hissing with frustration, the heads retreated, drawing away from its stomach.

       Without warning, smoke filled his eyes, and suddenly Killian was standing outside the house, on the front lawn.

       The smoke had been white. Emma had transferred him.

       Dashing to the entrance, he threw open the front door.

       He was met with a wave of heat, and an almost blinding flash of light that emanated from the second story.

       The hydra was aflame, fire sweeping overs its body as if it had been doused in combustibles. The necks writhed as the creature screamed in pain, and it backed away clumsily, haunches crashing into the gaping hole it had created in the staircase.

       Nails scrabbling frantically into the hardwood floor, it forced its way backward, into the tunnel leading to the dungeon.

       It had retreated, for the time being. All that was left was a nearly unbearable stench, a combination of seared flesh and the natural musk of the hydra. It crawled into his throat, nearly choking him.

       Catching his breath, Killian, hand still on the door handle, glanced to the second story. Emma, face drawn and sickly, was standing with her hands extended. She had driven the hydra away from the house.

       But not without cost to herself.

       She collapsed, legs sagging beneath her, shoulders and head hitting the floor.

       Regina, David, and Snow all immediately crowded around her, shouting.

       Feeling the air escape his lungs, his feet heavy with a sense of dread, Killian ran to the remains of the staircase, searching for a way to climb to the upper level.

       As his eyes assessed the possible handholds and footholds, he suddenly felt a weight on his right shoulder.

       Expecting another threat, he crossed his arm over his body and sunk his hook directly into the attacker.

       There was a muffled sigh, and Rumpelstiltskin dislodged the hook before coming to stand beside Killian.

       “Pirate, haven’t you learned by now that won’t work?”

“You-” Killian glanced up to where Emma had fainted. He had to get to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Belle came to get my help. Seems you need me, after all.”

Something unpleasant twitched in his stomach. “Then help Emma.”

“No, I’d like to hear you say it.”

Disgust churned within him, and the words tasted like bile. “We need you to help Emma.”

“Manners?”

“Please,” Kilian ground out.

Amused, the crocodile said, “There; now that didn’t hurt you any, did it?”

For the second time within minutes, Killian was carried by a vortex of smoke. This time, his destination was the second story of the house, right beside Emma.

Crouching beside her, he reached for her wrist to check her pulse, but Regina took hold of his arm. “She’s alive. She just fell.”

Standing, Killian squared off against the crocodile. “You said you’d help her. Do it.”

“First, might I suggest we all move somewhere more structurally safe?” Rumple offered mildly, glancing rather contemptuously at the ruins around them. “I fear the remains of this hallway won’t last much longer.”

“Right,” David agreed, peering over the edge of the floorboards at the ground level. “Don’t suppose you could poof us all down, or conjure a ladder?”

“Not necessary,” Regina broke in. “Gold and I can fix the damage.”

“I never said anything about that,” Rumpelstiltskin sneered. “I agreed to help Miss Swan. I won’t do both unless you are prepared to make a deal.”

“Well, maybe we should see what Belle thinks of that?” She tossed back, challengingly.

“Maybe next time Hook can leave your precious wife to be eaten by a giant snake monster, instead of saving her.”

Pure conjecture on Regina’s part; she hadn’t been around when Belle had left. But the crocodile didn’t know that detail.

“Fine,” Rumple said, darkly. “But only because I don’t want to owe any of you.”

With the magic of both Regina and the Dark One at work, the mess began to reverse itself, walls and staircase forming in seconds. Soon, it was impossible to tell there had been any damage at all.

Deciding it was now safe to move Emma, Killian lifted her shoulders and knees, and scooped her up as carefully as possible. She didn’t wake; her head lolling against his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Asked the crocodile irritably. “I thought you wanted me to help her.”

“I’m not leaving her on the floor while you muck about,” Killian spat. “I’m bringing her back to the bedroom.”

“Fine, then.”

The Charmings craned their necks worriedly as Killian passed by with their daughter, and he could see the fear on their faces.

He could more than imagine their reproach. If only Emma hadn’t come here…

Coming to the master bedroom, he lay Emma on the bed, then stepped back as he sensed the others filtering into the room.

“What happened?” Snow asked, voice shaky.

Pushing past Killian, Rumpelstiltskin stared down dispassionately at Emma. “Hades’ beast attacked your house.”

“We know that,” David said in exasperation. “Hades probably figured out we stole from him, and that…thing was here to get it back.”

“No, the hydra was sent to take Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin corrected, mouth thinning in anger. “Last night, Hades confronted me and said he would be ‘collecting his due’. That is why I came here in the middle of the night, and tried to convince her to let me handle things.” Then, a swift look of cunning passed over his face. “What exactly did you steal from Hades?”

“Never mind that,” Killian said immediately. “Tell us what happened with Emma.”

 Back straightening, Rumpelstiltskin immediately answered. “I thought it obvious. She exerted a tremendous amount of magic, even for the Savior.”

“Of course she has strong magic,” Regina sneered. “She used it to set the hydra on fire. You gonna tell us anything helpful?”

“I don’t think you understand,” said the crocodile in a mild tone. “You must have felt it. That wasn’t an ordinary fire conjuring. The amount of magic she used could have easily wiped out all of Storybrooke. Perhaps most of the Enchanted Forest.”

“That can’t be right,” David argued. “That should have obliterated the monster.”

“You can’t kill what’s already dead,” Rumpelstiltskin pointed out in that condescending way he specialized in. “It did, however, retreat; which might be more than even I could have accomplished. What I don’t understand is why it caused her to pass out.”

Picking up Emma’s hand, the Dark One conjured a needle, and extended one of her fingers.

“Absolutely not,” Killian growled, wrapping his hand around Rumpelstiltskin’s wrist.

“I could tell more from a drop of blood than three days of potions and tests,” was the impatient retort. “Unhand me, and allow me to work.”

“How about you give us your best guess, instead,” Regina stepped in, perhaps as worried as Killian was about just what Rumpelstiltskin might find in Emma’s blood. “Will she wake up?”

“Oh, eventually, yes. She’s not hurt, merely stunned. What appeared to happen is, she was trying to conjure a defense against the hydra, and it was a bit more than she bargained for. Somehow, in summoning her magic, she unleashed much more than she planned.”

“What do you mean?” Even Snow sounded irked with his ambiguity.

“What I mean is, she was trying for forty watts, and came up with a lightning bolt instead,” Rumpelstiltskin explained, sounding bored. “I do hope that metaphor is enough, because I don’t have time for a magic lesson right now.’

“Yeah, we get it,” Regina said. “So, she’s lost control of her magic? Not a big deal. She did before, and she learned how to handle it.”

“It’s not a loss of control,” the crocodile mused, tilting Emma’s chin back and observing her face. Killian didn’t miss the greedy curiosity burning behind his eyes. Ever obsessed with the unknown, with the potential of more power. “And she’s not in any danger. It’s more like a surplus of strength. But, much like a virus, the stronger it is, the quicker it burns out. That is why she fainted.”

“Where is this extra power coming from?” David wondered.

“That is what I was intending to find out, before the pirate interfered,” Rumpelstiltskin said, with a pointed glance at Killian.

David’s jaw twitched. “Run whatever tests you need to, then. We have to get to the bottom of this. Who knows what could happens the next time?”

“No,” Killian said.

The Charmings looked at him in shock.

“What do you mean, no?” Snow asked.

Eyes locked on the Dark One’s, Killian strode forward, arms at his sides. “You’re going to crawl back into whatever hole Belle found you in,” he ordered. With every word, he advanced, each step forcing the crocodile further and further away from Emma. “Whatever you’re thinking about using Emma for, you can forget it right now.”

“Hook, this isn’t time for your feud-” David began to chastise, when Regina cut him off in a sharp, authoritative voice.

“No, Hook’s right. Whatever you’re concocting, Rumple, you aren’t going to involve Emma.”

Rumpelstiltskin lowered his lids, masking his expression. He was waiting now, listening to see how things played out among Emma’s loved ones – and how he could best use it to his advantage.

 Patience for the monster’s games and wiles all but exhausted, Killian shoved Rumpelstiltskin backward, towards the bedroom door. “Get out. Now.”

Shrugging, Rumpelstiltskin faced David and Snow as he backed out of the room. “If you wish to know what’s wrong with your daughter, you can find me at the pawn shop.”

Silence thickened the tension in the room, and then Snow and David crowded around Emma, with Regina peering over their shoulders.

“David, she looks okay,” Snow began uncertainly.

Turning, David fixed Killian with a stony glare. “You had no right.”

“David-” Snow began, clutching his arm.

“She’s our daughter, not something for you to use in your vendetta against Rumpelstiltskin,” David continued, face starkly pale against the red flush growing on his neck. “You really don’t care what is happening to her do you? As long as you can keep your pride, right?”

Helpless, and desperate to explain, Killian said, “No, never – mate, it isn’t what you think.”

“David, come on. Let’s get some air,” Snow said firmly, and practically dragged him from the room. “Regina, Hook, call us when she wakes up,” requested the princess as she closed the door.

When they had left, Killian sat on the end of the bed, holding his hook tightly as he looked at Emma.

“He didn’t mean it, you know,” Regina said in her short, abrupt manner.

“I think he rather did.”

“No,” Regina said, flipping a layer of hair over her shoulder. “Trust me, it has nothing to do with you. If Gold had stuck around a few minutes longer, he’d be the one David was targeting.”

Tucking a blanket around Emma, Killian didn’t comment.

“You’re taking it too personally, pirate,” Regina said kindly. “One of us was bound to boil over. He’s frustrated with the situation, not you. He’s separated from his son, Snow’s name is on a tombstone, there’s a giant, mythical monster after us, and now his only daughter is short-circuiting, and he doesn’t know why -even if we do, he doesn’t. You were just a…convenient outlet. He’ll come around.”

 Unlikely. Suddenly, Killian feared what would happen when the news of the baby came to David’s attention. Would it put him at odds with Emma? Would he shun his second grandchild?

Everything he knew about David’s character said no, but-

“And if he doesn’t?” Killian asked huskily.

“Then Snow will make him,” Regina said matter-of-factly.

Killian didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Any headway he’d made with Emma’s family had been (rightfully) burned to ash during his stint as a Dark One. The best thing he could hope for going forward was tolerance.

It was a shame. He’d truly grown to like Dave.

He absently massaged Emma’s foot, while Regina pressed a hand thoughtfully to her forehead.

“Think you can wake her up?” Killian asked.

“I suppose I could,” Regina said, “if I had to. It’s not like she’s under a curse. But magic might be the last thing she needs right now. Plus, she could probably use the rest.”

“Aye, that she could,” Killian concurred, glancing at Emma’s skin, chalky and drained. “But, I have a feeling she’d like to be woken.”

“Well, which will it be?” Regina asked.

Given the choice, he would have happily curled up beside her and let her sleep, for as many hours as her body craved. But he could already picture her glaring at him for allowing it to happen.

In the end, he was spared from making the choice when Emma’s eyes flew open, and she jolted, sitting up and sending her blanket flying.

“Killian?”

“Emma, I’m here,” he assured her. Shuffling forward on the mattress, Killian tried to take her hand, but she threw her arms about his neck and held tight.

“What happened?” She gasped, and he could feel her chest heave in panic. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?” Regina asked.

“Last thing I remember seeing was Killian being attacked by the hydra,” she said, words directed to Regina, but delivered pressed against Killian’s jaw.

The next words were for him exclusively. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Well, you certainly found a way to prevent that,” he teased, trying to make light of it. “You set the entire bloody beast on fire.”

“I did?”

“Oh, to be sure. Looked like a pyre, it did. You scared it off.”

“How do I not remember any of this?” Emma asked, dazed.

“Because you fainted directly afterwards,” said Regina, tapping her toe against the hardwood. “How do you feel?”

“I – passed out? Just from using magic?” Emma asked sheepishly, releasing Killian and touching her temple. “Guess that’s why my head hurts. Where are my parents?”

“Ms Swan, aren’t you even a little bit concerned about why this happened?”

“My magic’s been weird down here!” She replied defensively.

“And why do you think that is?”

“I assumed because of the baby,” Emma said, clearly wondering where Regina was leading the conversation. “The lights did something weird when Henry was born. Maybe now that I use my magic, the same effect is amplified.”

“Emma, you didn’t just use magic. If you hadn’t directed that attack correctly, you could have demolished not only the house, but most of the Underworld, too.”

“But, I don’t even remember doing it!”

“It’s like I’m trying to train a cat,” Regina said huffily. “Magic. Is. Emotion. How many times do you have to be told?”

Emma glared. “Yes, I am aware of that, Regina.”

“And what do you last remember feeling?”

“Right now? A bit of irritation, if I’m being honest!”

Regina scoffed. “Before you fainted.”

“Fear, all right? Killian was about to be that thing’s lunch.”

Feeling like he should defend himself, Killian said, “I had it handled.” To diffuse the situation, he gave Emma a wink. “Not that I mind having my lady love come to my defense.”

“Let’s stay on track, shall we?” Regina asked. “Emma, what did you want to do? Think back, now.”

“I – was thinking your fireball did seem to affect it. And that maybe I should try it.”

“There you go. You were thinking fire, you got fire. Only it was a conflagration.”

“So you think the baby is, what, making magic? He’s the size of a thumb, for the love of-“

“A bit larger than a raspberry, actually,” Killian said without thinking. “If we’ve calculated the passage of time correctly.”

The women stared at him.

“I might have spent the afternoon looking at Belle’s pregnancy books instead of researching the crystal,” he confessed.

Emma grinned, and Regina snorted.

“Anyway, I think the pregnancy is amplifying your powers, Emma. The baby may still be growing, but that doesn’t stop you from experiencing regular pregnancy symptoms, right? Vomiting, mood swings-”

“I get it,” Emma muttered.

“You’re like a soda can that’s been all shaken up, and using your magic is like pulling the tab.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Emma demanded, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Killian knew how much of an effort it was by how she leaned into him. Whether she would admit it or not, her attack on the hydra had drained her.

“Simple. No more magic. At least until we figure out the magical equivalent of a surge protector.”

“That isn’t a solution, Regina.”

Reaching into the pocket of her suit jacket, Regina revealed a plain, familiar leather cuff. “Or, you could just wear this.”

“Where did you get that?” Emma asked suspiciously.

“Hades put it on my mother. To prevent her from escaping, I imagine. I thought it might be a good idea to hang onto it.” She shrugged. “You never know when we might need to…persuade someone to stop using their powers.”

Killian, waiting until Regina’s attention was fully on Emma, snatched the cuff from her hand. “This won’t be going on Emma unless she consents to it.”

Looking uncomfortable, Regina said, “Well, obviously. It was just a suggestion.”

“Here you are, Love,” Killian said, handing it to Emma.

After examining it thoughtfully, Emma crushed it into her jean pocket. “I’ll try to hold back from using my magic. But if that monster comes back…we were just lucky Henry wasn’t here.”

“Rumple said it was after Belle,” Regina said. “Hopefully we’ve bought ourselves a bit of time before it shows its ugly mugs again.”

“Gold was here?” Emma muttered, and Regina proceeded to explain what she’d missed.

But Killian didn’t hear a word of it.

Belle, he thought.

Where was she? Still in the Dark One’s hideout?

And why hadn’t she come back?

Chapter Text

Storybrooke

Present Day

“Swan -”

“Believe me, I see them, Killian,” Emma said, sidestepping over to him until they were standing back to back; a fortification for one another.

“Whatever you do-”

“-stay together,” Killian finished the sentence with her.

He felt her shoulders shift against his. “Right, yeah. And, try not to injure any of them. Remember, they can’t help it.”

Hovering above them like angels of death, the fairies didn’t appear to be helpless in the least. But, Killian knew Swan was correct. The poor souls were not their own masters at the moment, and should not be punished as though they were. “I know.”

From a few paces away, Mim lifted her wand like a conductor, lavender hair flying, and madness in her eyes.

Distantly, he noted that she was still on the ground; flightless, despite the swarm of her kin writhing above them. Had she not been able to reattach the wings she’d purloined?

“Pirate, it’s time to come to your senses and join the winning side,” said Mim, tone soft despite the wicked insanity visible on her face. “Come, now.” Extending a hand in a friendly gesture, she added, “Stop trying to be something you aren’t. I am going to give you one more chance to take the offer I gave you back on your ship. Let’s go get the dagger, and find Rumpelstiltskin. We can still both get what we want.”

Briefly, he considered agreeing – pretending to help her, so he could discover what she needed the Dark One for – but that was a dangerous game. If the dagger somehow fell into her hands, the force of both Mim and Rumpelstiltskin might be unstoppable.

And she was trying to take Adi.

“You don’t know what I want,” Killian replied. “And if you did, you wouldn’t understand it.” Adjusting the grip on his sword, he smirked in Mim’s direction. If he could anger her, perhaps she’d concentrate her attack on him, and not Emma. “I can see why you were denied the title of Reul Ghorm. Aren’t fairies supposed to know our greatest wishes, and all that?”

Rage and something close to petulance intensified her fearsome countenance as she condemned him. “You are a fool, Killian Jones.”

“Maybe,” Killian allowed. “But maybe not.”

Grinding her teeth, and without any further ado, Mim ordered her fairies, “Kill them,” and lifted her wand.

The fight that followed was on of the most intense of his life.

Somehow, he and Emma remained back to back; Emma shooting her magic and deflecting attacks aimed at them both, while Killian would sweep his sword broadly, chasing fairies into Emma’s range of attack, or disrupting their flight and sending them crashing to the ground, where he’d knock them unconscious with the hilt of his sword.

Faster and faster they moved: when Emma went high, he’d duck low, and when he leaned to one side, she’d switch in the opposite direction.

Legs moving in tandem, they shifted clockwise around the library, somehow avoiding furniture as they waltzed, leaving a trail of unconscious fairies behind them.

Killian’s breath came faster, the room heating with magic and the exertion of the battle. Fairy after fairy fell, yet still more swooped and assailed them, impeding them from reaching Mim by sheer force of numbers.

Growling, he swiped at a fairy with orange wings, who fluttered away from the feint and into a bookcase, stunning herself. “Swan, we can’t keep this up. We have to get to Mim.”

“She’s on the other side of the room,” came Emma’s frustrated voice, from over his shoulder. “She’s moving away!”

“Aye, I see that – bit of help here, love?”

Blocking a shot from a wand, Emma braced herself against Killian’s back, spun them, and punched a fairy who’d been in the process of placing a spell on them. “We need to get to her.”

“Any suggestions would be welcome,” he answered, grappling with a tall, freckled fairy who was attempting to reach over him and attack his Swan.

“Working on it,” was the distracted reply behind him.