#cs kid

“There’s not a day that will go by where I won’t think of you,” he’d told her, and Gods above how true that had been. But it was her response that haunted him most, and the look in her eyes when they’d departed that kept him awake in the wee hours of the morning even now.

“Good.”

One simple word, one blip in the hundreds of years of his life had shaken every foundation, for there was so much more in that agreement than what appeared at the surface. Suddenly he felt that there truly might have been an opportunity to seek something out with Emma. He could feel her trust, and he could also feel her sadness, a sadness he’d give anything the realms over to have spared her. Somehow his motivations for everything had shifted of late, and suddenly the one drive that trumped all others was the one that sought Emma’s happiness over everything else.

“But she is happy,” Killian whispered aloud to the empty space along the deck where he resided. “Regina said they would be.”

And though Killian and the Queen had a history together, one that hardly stood the test of truthfulness, Killian knew she was honest this time. She would never have risked Henry’s chance to be happy, even if it meant that Regina herself would never move on from the memories they shared. What the Queen lacked in decency to the rest of the world, she made up for with her son, and no matter what anyone said, her love for the lad was a constant and an assurance that somewhere, realms away from here, Emma and Henry were okay.

He on the other hand, was far from well, and since drinking himself into a stupor hadn’t worked (mostly because there always seemed to be this niggling voice in the back of his mind asking whether Emma would approve that kept him from going too far), he was resigned now to taking another path. This path was a quieter, lonelier one than even he was used to, but it was the only thing he wanted. The old thrills of a portside town held nothing for him now, just as banditry and piracy had lost their lush appeal. Only the sea provided any kind of solace, and so tonight he’d set his whole crew off ship, even the typical watchers and guards, to have some time alone. It wasn’t a cure by any means though, for the ghost of Emma lingered still, as prevalent and prominent as the waves lapping along the ship’s wooden sides.

“Get a hold of yourself, Killian. You have to let it go… I have to let it go,” he said into the night, knowing it would make no difference. He’d tried a thousand times before but there was no wishing this away. The memories lingered, the prickling sense of regret remained, but where others in Emma’s life might have preached for hope, he had none. This was what he deserved after everything he’d done. All the bad he’d partaken in, all the mistakes he had made, earned him this pain, this loss of love when he’d never dreamed a second change possible in the first place.

In that moment of despair a soft coo sounded above and Killian looked out on the water to see a white dove. A strange creature for these parts, but what was stranger was the attachment to it’s leg. There was a note there, and a parcel of some kind. It was all very odd, and then, just like that, his whole world changed as he unfurled the piece of paper and found the meaning of this sudden appearance. The message it contained was written in haste but the intent could not have been clearer and the most important words rang over and over in Killian’s mind.

Find Emma. Make her remember. Bring her home.

Only a few seconds passed where Killian debated what he should do and it wasn’t because of any lack of want to see her. No, if it were up to him, he’d have moved in an instant, but there was one small thought for what he would be ruining if he did go. Chances were Emma would have to sacrifice for what was to come. To save her family, to save all of the people of Storybrooke, she’d likely have to do as she’d always done – she’d have to give up what was easy and take the harder road, and if he could he’d keep that from happening. He would spare Emma, but in the end there was no choice. She was needed, and he… well he was the man so desperate to see her again that it almost didn’t matter if it was the right thing to do. He’d do whatever it took to see her again, and so he did, comforting himself with the simple fact that though Emma might be giving up everything, he was giving it all up too to give her a chance, and to maybe grant the two of them one at the same time if somehow – someway – things did work out as he wished in the end.

………

“Killian?” 

The question came from beside where he was standing at the Jolly’s edge and Killian focused back on the present moment, glad for the fact that the voice of his companion was none other than Emma herself. Years had passed, their world had radically shifted, and now the trials they’d faced before seemed long gone. That slip into the darkness of before was just that, a trick of the mind, and here before him instead of sorrow there was a light he’d never imagined possible back when he was a villain and a pirate and nothing more.

Turning back around he found exactly what he expected, his Swan looking every bit a vision as her loose curls danced about in the wind, and in her arms their three year old daughter – their little Hope – with wide eyes of excitement trained on him and clearly filled with appreciation for this vessel and their time at sea. His daughter was on track for filling her father’s shoes as a sailor, but with Emma as a mother, and the goodness their life in Storybrooke now had in abundance, he didn’t worry for her future. Their little lass would live a happy life, safe and surrounded by a family who loved her and protected her from any harms the worlds over.

“Aye, love?” he asked, ready and willing to yield to any wish his wife might mention right now.

“Your little lieutenant has a special request this evening,” Emma said before deferring to Hope who reached out for him, smiling and looking so like her mother as she did.

“Is that so?” Killian asked with a chuckle, taking Hope in his arms and placing her on his hip with a casual nature that told how commonplace this had become for all of them.

“Let’s go fast, Daddy!” Hope said excitedly, prompting a laugh from both Killian and his lovely wife. The two of them shared a look, acknowledging that they’d take the Jolly for a swifter jaunt than usual, but nowhere near as fast as she could go during times of need. This kind of excursion could only be taken because there was no real danger in sight, but neither Killian nor Emma would ever put their daughter at undue risk for any reason.

“If that’s what my princess wishes, it’s what she’ll have,” Killian replied jovially, pressing a kiss to Hope’s temple before setting her down with Emma and going about procuring the happiness of the two most important people in his life.

Later that night, after a speedy sail around the harbor, a dinner under the stars, and putting their little lass to bed, the memory of that previous life still lingered with him, and in typical fashion his Swan knew right away. So when they’d said goodnight to Hope, and left her room hand in hand, Emma stopped him for a moment, checking in and reminding Killian that she was there for him just as he was there for her.

“Everything all right?” Emma asked and Killian could only pull her in for a kiss, one still as searing and passionate as all they’d shared before. There was no ebb in the spark between them, and when they pulled back, his wife’s face had flushed a perfect shade of pink that his hook brushed ever so gently.

“Everything is nearly perfect, Swan.”

“Only nearly, huh?” She asked with a smirk as her eyes flicked down to his lips and her hand ran over his chest. That was it – he was lost to her just as he always seemed to be, and Killian was happy to be as such, because being lost in Emma was exactly the kind of happily ever after his long weary heart had always needed. It was, for lack of a better turn of phrase, perfection itself.

“Aye, but not to worry, love, I’ve every intention of seeing we reach that completely perfect state before the night is through,” he whispered before sweeping his lovely wife into his arms, pulling a muffled laugh from her as he carried her back to bed and delivered on that insinuated promise over and over again.

………….

This love of mine goes on and on Though life is empty since you have gone You're always on my mind, though out of sight It's lonesome through the day But oh, the night I cry my heart out, it's bound to break Since nothing matters, let it break I ask the sun and the moon, the stars that shine What's to become of it, this love of mine

I ask the sun and the moon, the stars that shine What's to become of it, this love of mine This love of mine

Post-Note: So hopefully you guys enjoyed this little bit of fluff! Sorry if I’ve just been so stupid as to forget an already lovely scene about Killian getting the message, but I figure it never hurts to reimagine things right? After all, there’s so many ways CS could have gotten to a happy ending, and half the fun is crafting out those ways. Anyway thank you all so much for reading and I hope you have a lovely rest of your day and that you’re all enjoying the holiday season!

He doesn’t ask, expecting she’ll explain when she feels like it, and steps forward to hug her. She hugs back fiercely and Henry wonders how long she’s been on her own. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “How’s Mom? And Grandma and Grandpa? And the town?” She steps back, swiping at her eyes and smudging her eyeliner a little; Henry holds back the urge to tell her she’s too young for makeup, remembering both what it felt like to have both his moms tell him he was too young for something and that any daughter of Killian Jones would probably have been born knowing how to apply the stuff. “Man, I can’t see how I missed it -- you look just like Mom.”

CJ makes a face at him. “Mom’s good. Well, to everyone else. She misses Dad. Grandma and Grandpa do what they can, but you know how Mom can be.” Henry did, in fact, know what Emma could be like. “Neal’s fine, if a pain in my ass. Everyone else is good. Where’s Dad?”

She has this hopeful look in her eye; if Henry remembers correctly (and this curse did a number on him, probably because he’d resisted just about every curse previous to this one, which was something else he had to add to the list of hunches), CJ would have been about four or five when Killian had sent Mom back home with a magic bean. She probably doesn’t remember him much, but if her hair decorations aren’t pilfered from one of the chests on the Jolly Roger, Henry will eat his author’s pen.

“He’s still at work. I’m Lucy, by the way,” she says, stepping forward and sticking out her hand.

CJ looks at Henry, then down at Lucy, and starts to laugh. She crouches down at shakes Lucy’s hand. “Nice to meet you, kid. I guess I’m your Aunt CJ.”

“Here, let’s sit down and we can talk while we wait for Killian,” Henry says, gesturing to the worn Adirondack chairs on the porch.

CJ catches them up on why she’s there; the curse had hit home too, and only recently had Mom and Maleficent (or “Auntie Mal”, as CJ called her, which made Henry’s head hurt to think about for too long) figured out a way for someone to safely cross the town line to go for help. Somehow, Henry doubts that his kid sister had been the intended messenger, but seeing her here and hearing her story of getting to her long-lost family proves that she’s family. She’d been train-hopping for more than a week to get from Maine to Seattle, stealing where she had to if necessary, and when Lucy asks if she’d ever been scared (because Lucy, being ten, had absolutely been scared coming all the way to Henry’s by herself), CJ reaches into her boots, whips out a pair of very sharp knives and winks.

Oh yeah, she’s definitely Mom’s kid.

After about an hour, she starts to look a little antsy, looking around the shabby neighborhood with no small amount of agitation. Her fingers tap her knees and her legs both bounce with pent-up energy. She tries to listen as Lucy explains their mission, talking about how Mom is now Roni and Killian is now Officer James Rogers -- Henry knows she’s not really listening, or else she probably would have laughed at that -- and Grandpa Rumpelstiltskin is... well, they haven’t quite figured that one out yet. He seems to like being a pain in the ass for Officer Rogers, but that’s not really anything the curse brought on.

She’s halfway through the explanation about why she goes by CJ when she leaps to her feet suddenly, seeing movement down the block. Henry looks over his shoulder and spots Killian with his backpack, the one Henry and Lucy deduced holds all the fishing gear for the pole sticking out of the top. “Must have been a rough day,” Henry says softly.

“Why d’you say that?” CJ asks, looking nervous and more like the young teenager she is.

“Officer Rogers likes to go fishing before work,” Lucy says. “But on bad days -- like if he’s stuck on a case, or if Rumple is bad to him -- he goes after work too. It’s why he’s so late.”

“You guys really did your homework here, huh?”

Killian eyes them as he comes up the walk. “Henry,” he says, sounding foreboding. “Bringing in more urchins for your games, I see.”

“Sorry, Officer Rogers, we were just -- hey, you feeling alright?”

Henry peers at him in the dim light; the sun’s down by now, twilight fading fast into night, and the porch light doesn’t provide much in the way of favors. The lines around his eyes look deeper, the shadows under them darker and broader, and the way he’s holding himself reminds Henry of a soldier not quite used to being off duty.

Officer Rogers looks spooked in the way that Killian Jones never has been.

“Fine. Need to get inside, kids, I’ve no time for games tonight --”

“You saw it, didn’t you?” CJ asks. Killian stops, his hand halfway to the doorknob. If Henry hadn’t been watching closely, he would have missed the way Killian’s hand shakes just a little, trembling from whatever ‘it’ is that CJ’s talking about. She rushes on. “You have to have seen it, no one looks like you do if they haven’t.”

“I saw something,” Killian admits, and CJ looks so relieved that she might collapse.

“Have you seen it before, in the Enchanted Forest? I thought you’d know for sure, all your travels --”

Killian cuts CJ off with a look. “I see you’ve been listening to Lucy. I saw something, lass, but it doesn’t mean it’s real. I skipped a dose last night and that causes hallucinations. I’ll thank you, Henry,” he turns and Henry feels like shrinking into himself, “not to bring further trouble to my doorstep. You should know better than to ridicule a sick man.”

With that, he opens the door, and CJ practically throws herself at his retreating back. “No, Dad! Dad, please, wait--”

The door slams shut behind him and she collapses in front of it, swiping weakly at the worn blue wood. “Daddy, we need you,” she whispers. “Mom needs you.”

Lucy goes to her, hugging her tight. Henry clears his throat awkwardly. He hadn’t thought it necessary to mention this version of Killian was much like the curse Emma had gone through with the Black Fairy; whoever this curse caster was, they were thorough, making sure that even Killian Jones couldn’t remember his family and believed himself sick with hallucinations and fantasies.

Henry needs to be better about this. He remembers the frustration he’d had with Mom during the first curse, how neither of them could share everything the other had because either Mom thought Henry wasn’t adult enough to handle it, or Henry knew Mom wouldn’t believe it. If he’s got his daughter and his sister on his side, two girls he knows will believe anything he throws at them, he needs to share everything. The good and the bad. “Sorry, Cassie.”

“It’s CJ,” she mumbles, digging a tissue from her pocket.

“What did he see?” Lucy asks, impatient. “If it’s something that’s bleeding over from Grandfather’s world, then we need to find out what it is and stop it.”

CJ blows her nose and shakes her head. “I don’t know. But...”

She points towards the east and Henry and Killian both follow the direction of her finger. Lucy gasps and Henry feels like someone’s sucker-punched him in the stomach.

“Auntie Mal says nothing good comes of a blood red moon, but she can’t divine what it’s for,” CJ continues, getting to her feet. “It’s been full every night for a month at home, and it’s been following me here. No one who isn’t fairy-tale can see it.”

Henry has the urge to hold his daughter, and pulls Lucy towards him with hands that shake. Just last night the moon had only been a crescent, waning towards new.