#csbb 2018

Indeed, the chosen dress was perfect for her plans, she checked as she turned to catch the different angles through the mirror. Her attire choice had been a flowing draped creamy dress accented with a gemstone belt. There was also another small detail, a zipper running down the back of the dress so she might need help to finish dressing. After one last look at her reflection, her lips drew a wicked smirk and then she went in search of her improvised assistant.

Killian did not disappoint her. The moment she appeared in the living room, walking toward him while her hips swayed slightly, his eyes locked on her, following her every move. When she got to where he was, she turned around, showing her bare back as she cast a suggestive glance over her shoulder. "I may need some help."

"Bloody hell, Swan. We should be leaving in fifteen minutes." He growled, his warm breath caressing the skin of the back of her neck and sending a chill down her spine.

"Where's the rush? It's my day today. I'm allowed to be late." She purred and then bit her lower lip, feeling the first touch —and she hoped not the last one— of his fingers on her bare back.

An hour later and after being thoroughly satisfied, they finally left his (their) apartment, both wearing the same sated smiles and flushed cheeks.

Their destiny was uncertain, at least for her. The only thing Killian had revealed to her was that they were going out of town to get her birthday present but that, evidently, they would be back in time for the party at Granny's in her honor. Still, on the drive to that unknown destination, she insisted, since she didn't feel particularly comfortable when things were not under her control, even for a good reason.

 "Where are we going?”

"Out of town, Swan.”

(Rolling eyes)

“Is my gift something physical?”

“You'll discover it shortly, love.”

(Really?)

“When we arrive? (Yes, I know, I'm behaving like a little girl, but I don't care)” 

“Patience is a virtue, just relax and enjoy the ride.”

( Double rolling eyes)

So she had no choice but to ‘enjoy the ride’ by looking out the window and trying to figure out from the different directions they took where they would go. To be honest, she also glanced at Killian from time to time who was exuding total confidence driving his new adapted vehicle as if he had been doing it all his life instead of just for the past three months.

She didn't stop admiring the ease with which Killian had ended up accepting his prosthesis and its implications, using the substitute of his hand to his advantage instead of making it an inconvenience. Still, the road to that level of acceptance had been long and hard — more than two years. Even now, he experienced some rough days, when the frustration of not being able to do something took over him or when the phantom pains of his missing limb paid him an unexpected visit.

Today wasn't one of those days, fortunately, since she couldn't bear to see Killian suffer, whatever the reason. Today his bright smile, his mischievous gaze, and that expression, a mixture of contentment and nervousness —  probably due to her impending surprise— made him irresistible in her eyes.

She supposed that they were going to Boston when they passed the sign with that name and turned onto the road that would take them to the center of the city. Her curiosity grew at times while she wondered what would await them there. When Killian started parking a few minutes later, Emma peered out the window, but nothing rang a bell.

She then looked at Killian, "I don't see anything interesting out there. Where are we supposed to be?" She asked, sounding perhaps a little more grumbling than she felt.

Killian smirked at her after rolling his eyes. "I'm afraid we're going to have to walk a bit. Also, I need to ask you a favor. Can I trust you?"

"It depends..." She tried to hide her true feelings by masking them with a halo of indifference, despite the fact that the damn bastard had managed to capture her interest, leaving her a nervous wreck and beyond excited.

"I need to blindfold you until we get to the place. That or you offer me enough confidence to walk there with your eyes closed. So, what's your choice, Swan?"

"I don't get the need for so much mystery but anyway - eyes closed. You’re not going to ruin my makeup for the second time this morning." She pouted as she felt her cheeks flush, recalling the reasons for the first time.

Killian also seemed to remember since, despite his smug grin, the tips of his ears turned a deep red in a way that made him so freaking adorable. Gods! She loved that man.

"Okay, let's do this." He patted the steering wheel of the car and, just as he was about to open the door to get out of the car, he turned to her, raising an eyebrow in warning. "Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

"You and I know that, surprise or not, you aren't able to take your eyes off me." She countered. Two could play this game.

"And you and I both know it's all your fault. You're irresistible, love." Without giving her time to react, Killian leaned toward her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before turning and getting out of the car.

He was at her side in an instant, opening the door and offering her his hand to help her out. She pressed her lips together holding back a snort. Always the gentleman... "Now, if the lady would be so kind as to close her eyes..." She gave him one last look, letting out a deep sigh before dropping her eyelids. "Trust me, Swan." He whispered in her ear, sending goosebumps down her skin. Next, she felt him draw her to him slightly and wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Let yourself go."

And that she did. Walking blindly, depending on someone else to guide her steps so as not to stumble or simply not to hit any obstacle on the sidewalk, turned out to be a demonstration of absolute trust in her partner. But, although there was always a bit of innate fear, she felt safe, once again, in his arms.

They didn't walk for long. If her sense of direction didn't betray her, they simply went around the corner and stopped a few steps later. "We're almost there, don't open your eyes yet."

When Killian moved away from her, she felt unprotected somehow and very tempted to do just that - open her eyes. She resisted though. Instead, she decided to use the rest of her senses to figure out what was happening around her.

She heard the tinkling of what sounded like keys, mixed with the ambient noise of the street. Then Killian's warm hand entwined with hers as he pulled her subtly. "We're almost there, just a few more steps, love." He whispered again.

Emma let herself be guided, feeling the temperature rise as they entered wherever Killian had taken her. The outside sound was muffled the moment the door closed behind them, giving way to absolute silence.

Killian pulled her once more, making her walk a few steps, her heels echoing broadly on the smooth surface of the floor. That gave her a clue that they were probably in a large room, getting her curiosity and impatience to increase.

"It's alright, Swan. You can open your eyes now." Killian muttered behind her.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times until her vision adapted to the new lighting in the room. When her gaze finally settled on what she found in front of her, her mouth fell open on a gasp and her eyes widened. "Holy shit!"

Her gaze traveled throughout the room while she remained in awe, unable to believe what she saw. They were in an exhibition hall. And her image -  several of her images - appeared in all the photographs that hung on the walls.

Her gaze then fell on Killian who remained silent at her side, his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her reaction. "You did this, didn't you?" She mumbled in a barely audible voice, her hand waving in an attempt to encompass the entire room.

"Aye?" He wrinkled his nose as he closed one eye, as if suddenly feeling insecure.

"Let's see if I understood correctly... You've organized a photo exhibit in a Boston showroom, using the photographs you took of me?"

"That would be a pretty accurate description." He confirmed tentatively while handing her an explanatory brochure.

The former British war reporter and award-winning photographer, Killian Jones, reappears after three inactive years to present us a new photographic collection, inspired by his muse, The Lady Swan, to whom the exhibition owes its name. True to his style, the collection stands out for the elegance and sophistication of simple lines alternated with powerful lighting games. All the photographs are in black and white, endowing the collection with the sobriety that characterizes the artist.

 The complete collection is for sale. All the benefits obtained will go to different non-governmental organizations that currently collaborate in locations of various active armed conflicts, as well as those working in cities that have suffered war attacks.

"Oh my God." A wave of pride, admiration and pure love seized her, causing her to throw her arms around his boyfriend's neck while kissing him hard. "You're bloody amazing." She mumbled in a poor attempt to imitate his accent as she grabbed the back of his head, sprinkling kisses on his cheeks, lips and any exposed skin of his face.

"I suppose that by your reaction, you approve of it." Killian said between chuckles, while trying to respond to her kissing attack with one of his own.

She pulled back a bit of him looking for her eyes. "Are you kidding me? This is wonderful, and I haven't even seen the photos in detail yet... As long as there are not any inappropriate photos... You know what I mean..." Emma raised an eyebrow suggestively while she bit her lower lip.

"You'll have to verify it for yourself." He winked at her, but then his expression changed to a more serious one. "The exhibition hall doesn't open to the public for another week, but I wanted to show it to you before, both as a birthday present and also to confirm that you give us permission to use your image. Just say the word and we will back out. This is important, Swan. " Killian looked at her intently.

She had no doubt that he would do it, that if she didn't agree, he would take down all the photos on the wall with his own hands. That certainty did nothing but increase her feelings towards him, causing a lump in her throat while she looked at him completely stunned, unable to utter any words.

Killian must have interpreted her silence in the wrong way because before she could reply, he continued with his explanation. "It's reward enough for me to have witnessed your reaction. That’s what I wanted when I set up all this, to show you how wonderful you are as a model and maybe, to believe in myself again. I’m getting it now through your reaction. I don't give a shit about what others may think."

"Others, and with others, I mean the rest of the world, are going to be impressed with your art. You deserve to have the rest of the world recognize your talent in the same way that I do." She nodded to emphasize her speech. Her reaction managed to pull a smile from his lips, to which she responded with one of her own. "And now, I may need a special guide to tour this exhibition." Emma offered her hand, ready to enjoy her gift in its entirety.

What impressed her the most about Killian's art work, besides his undeniable talent, was that walking around the room observing the photos was like walking through their shared memories. Each image, from the simple photo of her strolling on the beach at sunset to the photo in which only her hands appeared braiding her hair, all had a special meaning for her, and for both as a couple.

But there were four special photos that caused her to gasp when her eyes landed on them. The first photo was chosen from that photo shoot in early May, when she was wearing his black shirt. Yeah, the one with the bare shoulder.

It was amazing how Killian had managed to capture her enigmatic gaze and convey sensuality and delicacy at the same time. He made her look like a powerful and impressive woman. A strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach when she saw herself in that startling image, as if she did not identify with the person that appeared.

Killian must have sensed the emotion crossing her mind since he circled her waist with his arms from behind as he murmured in her ear. "It seems that I changed my mind and I've decided to share the marvel I've got for a girlfriend with the rest of the world." "I'm not complaining." She turned her head looking for his lips for a quick kiss. "I look damn good there. I don't know how you did it." "It's all your merit, Swan." "Sure." She rolled her eyes as she continued walking.

The next photo pulled her lips into a smile for both the image itself and the memory behind it. Killian had managed to capture a close-up of one of her eyes and a tear that had begun to slide down her cheek. A new wave of admiration washed over her since he had captured the moment, pausing the tear eternally on its way down. And even though the photo was black and white, the intense brightness of her gaze was evident.

What people wouldn't know was the light source or that she wasn't crying with sadness - well, maybe yes, or, whatever... They had watched Titanic together for the first time a couple of months ago and Killian had made fun of her from the very beginning since she had been trying to hold back tears throughout the film. With the inevitable death of Jack, she hadn't been able to help it anymore and a furtive tear had finally escaped. Killian had decided at that precise moment to grab his camera, of course. And now, they were seeing the result right here.

Approaching the next photo, the one that occupied a privileged place in the room for obvious reasons, she screamed, literally. "Oh my God!"

The dimensions of the photo were somewhat larger than the others, which made it stand out even more. Emma’s image stood in the center of the picture with her back to the camera, submerged up to her waist in a lake. She wore a white dress and over it, a kind of light coat of the same color, adorned with fake feathers. She had her arms raised on either side of her body at shoulder height, the wide sleeves of her cloak creating the effect of wings in the air. Her hair was pulled up in a high bun and her head was slightly tilted upwards, her neck stretched out, her elegant posture emulating a swan. The light at that hour of the day fell over her in such a way that it seemed that a luminous halo surrounded her. The image was hypnotic and powerful and perfect. And it was her boyfriend's artwork.

But the best of all was the story behind that picture. They had found the cloak while walking through an antique market one summer day and Killian had felt inspired, so he had spent the next two days looking for the best location to carry out the photo shoot. Despite her initial apprehension of getting into the water with clothes on, she had enjoyed the photo shoot, following Killian's instructions and contributing with her own ideas since she was enthusiastic about emulating her namesake swan.

Given that the place Killian had found was sufficiently recondite, they had decided to celebrate the end of the session in a rather pleasurable way, gaining not only memories of one of her best jobs as an improvised model, but memories of making love under the trees, a blanket of vegetation beneath them. A warm feeling ran through her body as Emma shared a knowing glance with Killian. Without a doubt, their minds were reliving that unforgettable moment.

She remembered something else too - something not so nice. She had been so excited to see the result of the photos that she had felt totally devastated when Killian had told her that he had inexplicably lost the content of that photo shoot.

"You didn't lose the photos! You're a liar!" She recriminated him poking a finger into his chest.

"Sorry?" Killian gave her an apologetic look, but the grin he wore indicated he didn't feel sorry at all. "I needed you to see the picture for the first time right here, Swan." His lips drew a pout in his attempt to defend himself.

"I want a copy of this photo." She sued.

"As you wish." His head made a slight bow. "You can have all the copies you want, love." He assured.

She looked at the image again, discovering with each glance a new small detail, like the few clouds that adorned the sky. "It's just perfect, Killian. Congratulations."

"Again, the merit is all yours. Well, and maybe the sun also has something to do with it as that day, it decided to grace us with its splendor. But I mean it, you're not only stunning but you're always willing to participate in my crazy ideas. I really appreciate it, Emma." As he spoke he approached her, invading her personal space and placing both his hand and his prosthesis on either side of her waist. She, in turn, encircled his neck with her arms.

"I'm in love with an artist, I'm the privileged one here, believe me."

After being enthralled for a few seconds, both lost in each other's eyes, Killian shook his head slightly, as if trying to get out of the trance and offered his hand to Emma, guiding her to the last photograph of the exhibit.

Again, contemplating the image brought more emotion to her already excited heart. This time her eyes filled with tears and her heart fluttered as she looked at the picture in front of her. A photo of a family hug that she remembered very well, of the day she had finally decided to accept that she was part of a family. She had her back to the camera, but the image did show the faces of her parents, both wrapping her up in a protective hug, wearing the same expression of relief and love.

"That's the only photo of the collection that I took with my mobile, but I felt the need to include it here, since that's your life now - our life." He corrected himself as he reached for her cheek to wipe away the tears.

"See? You ended up messing up my makeup." She made a sound that was half-sob and half-giggle. When she got her emotions to calm down she finally was able to thank Killian properly. "Thank you so much, Killian. This surprise has exceeded expectations and this birthday gift competes with the one I received last year, the one who brought me to you."

"Speaking of which, love, your gift may not be over yet. In fact, I need you to close your eyes again. It will only be a few steps, I promise." He seemed so excited, almost bouncing in place, that she could not do anything but accept, close her eyes and trust him.

Only a few steps later they stopped again while Killian whispered that she could already open her eyes. When she did, she found a new smaller showroom. In contrast to the previous room, the photos that appeared hanging from the walls were an explosion of color. She didn't identify the photos at first, too shocked by all the emotions she had experienced throughout the day. But when her brain finally processed what her eyes were watching, she had to cover her mouth with both hands to avoid screaming again.

Killian had filled the walls with her own photographs, the ones she had taken and edited over the past few months. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that she was contemplating her first photographic exhibition.

"Killian..." It was the only sound she could utter before a sob bubbled in her throat. Her agitation did not diminish when he handed her her own informational brochure, rather quite the contrary.

The amateur photographer, Emma Swan, presents her first photographic collection, Pictures of Reality, a work that stands out for the ability to immortalize little pieces of the reality of her place of residence, Storybrooke, a town located on the coast of Maine, and turn them into something special, beautiful and full of meaning. The intelligent use of colors in these small everyday scenes gives her work a great visual quality.

She was not just crying now, her eyes were two fucking fountains. Her gaze was so clouded with tears that she wasn't even able to observe her own work. "God, Killian, I hope this is the last surprise, because I swear I'm going to dry up inside."

This time, he did not even bother to wipe her tears, as it would have been an impossible task. He directly handed her a tissue as he pulled her lightly to guide her through the exhibition hall.

Now, she understood his insistence for her to edit her own photographs. He had managed to make everything that hung on the walls appear to be the result of her work, minus the actual printing of the photographs. And she admired him even more for it, for giving her the wings that would allow her to fly to reach her dreams.

"You're bloody brilliant, love. See all those photos? They’re talking, they're telling us stories, you've been able to capture those stories in your images." The smile of pride that adorned his face was enough for her to be about to burst into tears again, but this time she resisted.

There were photos taken from the docks, families walking, an old man sitting on a bench and telling stories to his grandchildren while the kids watched him enraptured. Killian had also included the photo of Olaf, the snowman, the one that she took the day of their practices in the snow. There were also photos of the nature that surrounded Storybrooke, photos of its inhabitants, photos of Henry, of her parents... Even the two of them also appeared, or at least their two hands intertwined.

Something changed in Killian's attitude as they stood right in front of that photo. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him, and a slight blush colored his cheeks. It was evident that he was up to something but she was not sure that she could handle even more surprises.

"Don’t you think there's something missing in that picture?" He asked, his chin pointing toward the photo as he reached out to scratch behind his ear.

Emma tilted her head, studying his features from under her lashes for a few seconds until her gaze finally drifted to the image. Her eyes narrowed trying to detect what could be missing. "I don't know, maybe the lighting? Or the saturation? Or perhaps the focus?"

"The photo is perfect both artistically and technically, but there is something missing on one of your fingers." Out of the corner of her eye, Emma watched as Killian pulled something out of his pants pocket and showed it to her. A ring.

"No!" She gasped unable to stop the emotion.

"No?"

A wrinkle of worry appeared on Killian's forehead as he remained still. Dammit! She shook her head and hurried to explain herself. "I mean, it's an 'I can't believe this is happening' sort of no..." She held her breath as she thought her heart was going to explode if he did not make any move.

After a few seconds that seemed eternal, the corners of his lips twisted upwards, the flash of something promising dancing in his eyes. "It would be an honor for me if you'd allow me to be a part of our own pictures of reality by becoming your life partner." Her gaze bored into his briefly until she shook her head in an attempt to get out of the trance. "Is that your way of asking me to marry you, Jones?" "Is it working?" He offered her a tentative smile. "Yes!" "I'm afraid I need you to be more specific here. That 'yes' means that it's working or that you do want to marry me?" "Oh my god, Killian." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I want to marry you." Emma affirmed before throwing herself into his arms and capturing his lips with hers. An endless number of sensations danced inside her, causing her to feel like floating, not quite sure if what she was experiencing was real or just the sweetest of dreams. Only when they parted to catch their breaths did she realize that he still held the ring in his hand. "What are you waiting for? Put that ring on my finger, Jones." Emma offered her hand palm down. "So demanding, Swan." He smirked while he finally placed the ring where it belonged. "But you love me." "I do, with all my heart."

A flash crossed her mind at that moment when she remembered the first birthday they had shared, his, and the Nol... her parents' warning that he never celebrated it. "Would you let me do something special for you for your next birthday? I mean, I won't even get close to this, but I can try."

"Even at the risk of sounding a bit corny, my birthday will be special enough just by having you by my side."

"You know what I mean, Killian..."

There was a pause in which Emma was able to deduce that Killian was torn between staying anchored to his past or giving the future a chance. The ring she now wore on her finger was an indication and the bright smile he offered anticipated the answer, to her relief. "Even though you don't need to do anything special..."

"I don't need, I want to." Emma corrected.

"Okay then. I won't be opposed any surprise when it's time to celebrate my next birthday."

"Good." Her mind then began to work frantically, searching for ideas about how she might surprise him, now that Killian seemed willing to move on. Maybe that promised trip to London… But there were still a few months left for that. In the meantime, she still had many hours ahead to continue enjoying her special day.

//

Emma couldn't stop glancing at her new ring on the ride back to Storybrooke. Not even in her best dreams had she imagined that she would end up engaged on her birthday. The possibility of a wedding was something that she wouldn't ever have thought of until now, honestly, since from the day she had chosen to give a new opportunity to her relationship with Killian, she had decided to enjoy the day to day, without thinking too much about the future.

She didn't really need a ring, not an engagement, or even a wedding to consolidate her feelings towards Killian but somehow, the idea of celebrating with all their friends and family the commitment of their eternal love suddenly sounded more and more appealing. She couldn't wait to see the reaction of the others.

"I guess David will jump for joy when he finds out, now that he can finally call you son..." Emma made a deliberate pause. "...in-law."

"Well ..." Killian gave her a sidelong glance before focusing his eyes on the road again. "Your father may be aware of the news already... I... I asked for his blessing the other day..."

"Of course you did." Emma shook her head slightly as she couldn't prevent a smile from appearing on her face at the evidence, once again, of the strength of her new fiance's relationship with her father. A new idea crossed her mind at that moment, something she hadn't thought about until now. When the wedding took place, someone would have to walk her down the aisle and someone would have to be Killian's best man... No doubt David was going to be a very busy man that day.

With that in mind, she leaned against the back of her seat and closed her eyes, letting the last sunshine of the day caress her skin while a sensation of bliss spread through her body.

//

The first thing Mary Margaret did when Emma and Killian came through Granny's door was to look at her left hand as her eyes filled with tears and then she wrapped them both in a tight hug.

There were other curious reactions to the announcement of their engagement, such as Ruby and Graham's.

"Tell me it was you who asked him, Emma." Ruby demanded with a pleading look.

"Eh, not really." Emma replied slowly, not quite sure what all this was about. Her response caused Graham to raise his fist in the air in triumph as Ruby let out a snort of annoyance as she handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

"Wait... Is this a kind of bet or something?" Killian asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"It's totally a bet. Here, my boyfriend and Ruby had the brilliant idea of betting who would be the one asking for the other’s hand in marriage." Elsa explained trying (and failing) to keep a serious expression.

Emma and Killian looked at each other while Killian raised an eyebrow and his lips began to draw a smirk. She shook her head in disbelief, for not having been aware at any time of the bet of her two friends, but she also felt glad because, with their gesture, they implied that they were certain that the engagement would happen sooner or later.

"It's not funny." Ruby grumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do men always have to do it? Elsa, you're my last hope!” Ruby smirked at her, showing that she had already recovered after finding a new target. Graham and Elsa instead blushed in unison as they both looked at the floor. It seemed obvious that soon new wedding bells would sound in Storybrooke.

To the relief of the new couple in love, the other guests began to approach Emma and Killian to give them the appropriate congratulations. Henry was the last to do it. After sharing a hug full of affection with Emma, his gaze traveled from Emma to Killian while he wore a thoughtful expression.

"If the three best photographers in the town will be the main ones involved in the wedding, who will be in charge of taking the photos?" He asked with genuine interest.

"Well..." Killian raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his former students, all present at the event. "I think we have quite a few candidates here who will do a worthy job."

"We learned from the best, professor!" Will shouted, causing the rest of them to clap, while the tips of her fiancé's ears turned a characteristic pink color. There was no doubt that Killian had left a mark on each of them and for one reason or another, that course would always remain in their memories. In hers, of course, the course had a special place.

Once all congratulations on the engagement finished, it was time for another celebration, her birthday, and the reason why the party had been launched in the first place. If she thought the surprises were over after their visit to the exhibition hall and after getting engaged, she was wrong. Maybe she had already known in advance that a party in her honor had been waiting for her in Storybrooke, but what she did not expect at all was to find so many displays of affection, so many smiles, so many gifts. Everything for her, all because of her.

The arrival at Storybrooke two years ago had meant the end of her lonely birthday celebrations, but this was the first time she had done it with a real family around her and with the promise of the new family that she and Killian would soon start.

She kept the tradition of blowing the lonely candle in a cupcake, but now she didn't need to take a selfie to capture the moment, many people volunteered to do so. It was Elsa, the second most advantaged student of the course, the person chosen to immortalize the scene while Emma closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the feeling of being loved, and with the simple wish that both her happiness and that of her loved ones last forever.

The tears shed didn't end with Killian's surprises either. She had never considered herself a weeping person but now that love in all senses of the word ran wild through her veins, she finally allowed herself to express her feelings and be vulnerable.

For that reason, she was unable to hold back the tears when she opened her parent's gift. An old Polaroid camera, the same style as the one Killian still had and like the one she had lost so many years ago. A new wave of affection both to her parents and to her recent fiancé —it was evident that Killian was also behind this surprise— took hold of her.

She reserved the last tears for later, with Killian and the four walls of their bedroom as the only witnesses. Besides the camera, her father had also given her a new letter. Although she had felt the almost unstoppable impulse to read it right there, she had finally preferred to do it in privacy. It was like this: holding the letter handwritten by her father while Killian's arms wrapped her as the happiest day of her life ended. The best part was that that day was only the first of many that were to come.

My dearest Emma,

Happy birthday, my dear daughter. May all your dreams come true.

I’m aware that we have already established that now that we have finally met, these letters are no longer necessary. But, since this has been my only contact with you all these years, would you allow me to write you one last time? Or maybe we could turn it into our little tradition, something just between you and me. Would you like that?

I'm honestly unable to explain in words how utterly happy I am to be with you on this special day and not just settle for watching you in the distance or writing longing letters hoping against hope that one day they would reach to you.

That day arrived at the moment when, in your huge generosity, you decided to forgive us and include us in your life, being part of your family.

I know that I will live the rest of my life trying to compensate you for all these years that we have spent separated. But today is a special day for you and also for us, it's not time to look back to the past but to look forward.

It's likely that when you read this letter you will have discovered the surprises that Killian has prepared for you. You can not imagine how incredibly proud I feel of you, of your talent, of your ability to achieve everything you set out to do.

Maybe your hand, the one that holds this letter, is wearing now something that wasn't there a few hours ago. Killian came to me a couple of weeks ago, telling me all the plans he had for your birthday and asking for my blessing to marry you.

I was aware that this would happen sooner or later, but that didn't stop my heart from bursting with happiness knowing that my family was finally going to be complete, that the person I've seen growing up, my best friend, that loyal and honorable man, will be part of our family officially.

I send my best wishes to you both, so that you are able to build that family that you deserve so much. We will be by your side whenever you allow us, helping and supporting you in this new stage of your journey in life.

I won't assume that I will be the one that walks you down the aisle, Emma, but in case you are so kind to choose me, it would be my most complete honor to accompany you on that special day and witness one of your milestones. We have lost so many throughout your life that I honestly hope not to miss a single one more.

Your father who loves you and will always be by your side,

David.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - May 3, 2021

It was a bright day in early May. The soft sea breeze ruffled his hair as the warm sun's rays caressed his skin, the salty scent penetrating through his nostrils. Killian was at the docks, leaning over the railing, holding his inseparable camera between his hand and his prosthesis while he captured the magic of the sunset, the sky turning into a canvas of reddish and orange hues.

The ocean had always had a calming effect on him, both the sound and the movement of the waves had managed to alleviate the agony of his heart or make the burden of his past more bearable. Even now, when his heart was not only in peace but overflowing with happiness and his old ghosts were no more than a vestige of the past that only made an appearance from time to time, he still enjoyed the effect of the sea on him. Both he and his wife did so to the point that they had begun to consider buying a boat and making photographic expeditions along the coast of Maine. Or even further, only they would establish the limit.

His wife. He let the word slide through his mind as he could almost taste its meaning by watching the ring in his hand, one of the many proofs that what he was experiencing wasn't a dream, it was real. So real that sometimes the feeling was too overwhelming. This was his life now, waiting for his wife and father in law in one of their favorite spots of the town to later enjoy a peaceful dinner together. It was a simple and perhaps predictable life but he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

Emma had asked him on occasion if he missed his years of adventure traveling to exotic places or working on risky missions so that the world would not forget the most disadvantaged people. The answer was always immediate. No, he didn't miss his previous life, not when he now had something to live for. And he could always fight injustice by offering his services in another way.

Just then, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, while a sense of anticipation hummed under his skin. He just needed to turn his head slightly to find the cause. Emma, his wife, the imminent future mother of his daughter, the love of his life, was walking towards him, causing his heart to flutter. She looked like a goddess, dressed in all white, her golden hair dancing to the rhythm of the sea breeze, her lips drawing a loving smile and her bright green eyes fixed on him.

His fingers began to tingle so he had no choice but to give in to the impulse, grabbing the camera to capture the image of the impressive woman he had for a wife. She was his muse, the person who had brought inspiration back to his life, after all. Knowing she was observed, she didn't hesitate to pose for him while her hand caressed her very swollen belly.

Only when he was satisfied enough with the result of his improvised photo shoot did she approach him, planting a loud kiss on his lips.

"This tiny little baby is not even born yet and she has already got more pictures than her mother and father together. I don't even want to imagine what will happen to us when she finally decides to arrive. We're going to have to buy a new apartment just to get more walls to hang her photos."

A laugh bubbled from his chest as he pushed aside the camera that hung around his neck to make space for his wife in his arms. "Oddly enough, I wasn't taking pictures of her, but of her stunning mum."

"You mean the whale I've become." She grumbled, her lips drawing an adorable pout. "I honestly can't wait for this baby to arrive, I think I'm going to explode at any moment."

Killian chuckled as he bent over until his face was at the same level as Emma's belly, leaving a delicate kiss on the fabric that covered her as he whispered, "Don’t listen to your mother, little love, she is and always will be the most beautiful woman, at least until you get here, of course."

He didn't need to look at his wife's face to know that she was rolling her eyes at that moment, although the smile pulling at her lips would become wider.

"This baby and her mom are pretty hungry. Why don't we head for Granny's right now?"

It was then that Killian realized that Emma had arrived alone. She and David were supposed to come directly from the newspaper office and then the three of them would meet with Mary Margaret at Granny's.

True to her decision, Emma had begun her studies to become a journalist and she was already in the process of getting it. Meanwhile, she had started to work in the local newspaper under her father's orders, thus achieving not only a source of income but to strengthen bonds with David.

"Where's your father?"

Emma rolled her eyes before answering. "He got a call from Mary Margaret for him to pick her up. Guess where she was?"

"In our house?" Killian asked, knowing in advance the answer for Emma's reaction.

"Yeah, apparently she's found the nicest crib sheet set ever and she just had to have everything ready because of the imminent arrival of this little human being." She pointed towards her belly. Although there was a slight bit of complaint in her voice and her brows furrowed slightly, Killian knew that she didn't mind at all that her mother had taken control of the baby's preparations.

They had previously talked about this and both agreed. Emma understood their reasons, accepting that their granddaughter was going to give them the opportunity to experience all that they had missed with her since, in addition, they had decided long ago that they wouldn't become parents again, that they wouldn't look for a substitute for their lost daughter.

Emma and Killian weren't going to complain if that meant lightening their responsibilities and enjoying more time together. They even have already predicted future dates when their little girl had grown enough to stay in the care of her grandparents from time to time.

"By the way, I caught David again today." Emma's voice brought him back to reality. "He adores you, you know, don't you? He was talking on the phone with someone and he wouldn't stop talking like this 'my son this... my son that...'  He seems to always forget the 'in-law ' when he refers to you."

A warm sensation spread to his heart when he heard Emma. The feeling was mutual. If before the ties with David and Mary Margaret were strong, now that they had officially become family they were indestructible. David was not only his father-in-law but his best friend, his co-worker from time to time and the father figure he had needed so much since the loss of his brother. "But you and I know that doesn't bother you, right?"

"Nah, I find it pretty adorable, sort of weird, but adorable nonetheless." Emma offered him a soft smile while her hand caressed her belly again. "And now that I'm talking about him, I'm going to send them a text because my stomach is literally growling. I'm gonna faint if I don't eat any food in the next few minutes." Emma pulled the phone out of her purse and typed on the screen quickly. Next, she offered her hand. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Killian held her hand but instead of walking, he brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles as his eyes locked on hers. "Did I tell you today how much I love you, Swan?"

Emma remained thoughtful for a few seconds before answering. "Only a couple of times, but I wouldn't mind listening to it again."

The adorable smile that appeared on her lips almost made him forget to say the words, but he repressed the desire to kiss her senselessly until a little later. "Just a reminder, I love you Emma Swan-Jones."

"I love you too, Killian Jones. And now kiss your wife already."

He happily obliged.

David Nolan. Storybrooke -  May 3, 2021

When David arrived at his daughter and Killian's apartment, he went directly to the small nursery, the room next to the master suite that had served as a dark room before they decided to move into that apartment and transform Emma's old apartment as a photo studio.

Mary Margaret was already there, but instead of keeping busy or simply watching distractedly the bedroom that would welcome their granddaughter in just a few weeks — in just a few days if they were lucky— he found her in the middle of the room, staring at the screen of her phone while covering her mouth with her free hand.

A tug of concern settled in the pit of his stomach as he hurried to get to his wife. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Mary Margaret flinched as she noticed his presence, while she looked away from the phone at him, her eyes full of tears that threatened to spill. "David..." She gasped. Then she shook her head, as if she had finished processing the information, while her face lit up. "Nothing is wrong, it's the opposite of wrong, actually. Everything is perfect." She breathed out while she handed him her phone.

Hi mom! Did dad already arrive? Your granddaughter and I are starving, so we're heading to Granny's now. Don't be late unless you want to arrive when I've devoured half of Granny's pantry. ES

Oh, and mom? Can you get me the jar of pickles that I keep in the cupboard? I may have a kind of craving right now and Ruby texted me to inform me that they have run out of stock. Can you believe it? ES

Mom and dad... David's heart thudded in his chest as his stomach fluttered, when he read those words for the first time. Emma had accepted them as parents a long time ago, and he was aware that she referred to them as such when talking to other people, but never when talking directly to them. Until now.

And the way she had chosen to do it only increased his love for her. She had used a simple text, something causal that in other circumstances would be impersonal, and had transformed it into something magical and special just by using two words. He didn't know if his poor heart would resist when she finally uttered the words out loud.

"Let's go get our daughter and son." David grabbed his wife's hand, pulling her gently while placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. Before leaving the nursery, he took a last look, while a warm sensation spread to his heart. Their granddaughter wasn't yet born, but her bedroom was already full of life, with warm colors, photos, and drawings adorning the walls. Even the old rag doll that was once destined for Emma now occupied a privileged place in the room.

There was no doubt that she would always be surrounded by memories in the form of pictures and stories and, above all, surrounded by the love of her entire family. He couldn't wait to finally meet her, hold her in his arms and never let her go.

TheLadySwan Family, that wide concept that encompasses endless possibilities, such as the unconventional family, without blood ties between its members, but with an indestructible union despite the misfortunes they go through. Or as the family that is reunited after too many years apart and whose members have to re-establish the ties that were broken at the beginning. Or as the family that is about to add a new member, a tiny person who has not yet been born but who has already managed to create unbreakable ties with the rest of her loved ones. Your whole family is looking forward to your arrival, Hope. 

//

This is the end...

“Oh, Emma. It’s okay!”

Anna rushes to her side and grabs hold of her hands.

“Yeah?” she squeaks out her question.

Anna squeezes her fingers and her expression gentles from excitement to understanding.

“So, okay. I promise. Let’s call Killian right now, he’s sporting the same expression you are, although with a little more self-loathing.”

Emma’s face scrunches in confusion.

“But he doesn’t --”

“Have a phone? I know, what a dummy! But listen to this, Kristoff and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat at the Brazen Head, and there was Killian, pacing outside a coffee shop. He was trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi on the phone he’d just bought, muttering over and over that he must have missed a hostel as he looked for you. So anyway, I run over to him and--”

“Anna,” Emma interrupts, eyes pleading. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Uh, we only called you about a thousand times,” she says, shaking her phone in front of Emma’s face.

“What are you talking about? My phone never rang.”

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket, only to find the screen dark. Her stomach drops. She presses the home button and the dreaded dead battery image flashes across the screen.

“Oh look, here’s Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s grinning face fills Anna’s screen and all Emma wants to do is steal the phone away, she wants to ask more questions, she wants Killian to suddenly appear directly in front of her.

“Kris, are you with Killian? I found her. At Abrahams on Lower Gardiner. You’re where? Oh!”

Emma tries to follow the conversation, she really does, but when she hears that Kristoff is with Killian, all she wants to do is be where he is, now. She frantically stuffs everything back in her pack, unaware Anna has stopped talking or that the front door has opened once again.

She just needs to get to him and everything will be alright. She’s sure of it.

“Anna, you need to tell me where he is.”

She is met with silence.

She looks up to find Anna watching her with that same soft smile. One she doesn’t have time for.

“Swan.”

She drops everything. Her bag lands with a loud thump, falling precariously close to the end table, rattling the tea cup and saucer but she pays no mind because he’s there. Killian is in the lobby, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. His chest heaves with quick breaths as they stare at each other.

“Killian,” she says with relief, with a small gasp before her feet are moving her across the room. He keeps them both upright when she reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck, lips meeting in a hard desperate kiss.

His arms come around her, and hold her tightly, as she changes the angle of the kiss, wanting more, breathing him in. She only pulls a breath length away, hands gripping the collar of his jacket, eyes closed, words rushing out.

“How, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been to every hostel in the city, some twice and when I found Anna and K--” his explanation breaks off on a laugh as she peppers his face with kisses.

“You really found me,” her voice comes softer, surprise tinting her words and she watches as he turns pensive, eyes searching hers for the words she isn’t using.

He cups her face, thumb catching fresh tears on her cheeks, gently wiping them away.

“Of course. I will always find you. Did you doubt I would?”

She doesn’t want to say yes, or to admit to all the fears and worries that had threatened to overwhelm her, not when he had been looking for her as frantically as she, but he must have read it as clear as day on her face. He has always teased her about being an open book.  

“Emma, where did you think I went?”

She opens her mouth but how does she explain such a thing? Her grip on his jacket tightens and she tries again to explain that there is a little voice that whispers to her when she is at her most vulnerable. One that tells her she isn’t good enough to keep anyone around for very long, one that tells her she doesn’t deserve him, but the words don’t come. She also wants to tell him how badly she wants to fight that little voice, how she didn’t want it to be true with him.

The front door opens and a group of young women tumble in, carrying with them their giggles and a current of cold air.

Emma shivers, tucking herself against Killian. His hand drops to her back, running up and down.

“Emma, you soaked through, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry.”

She buries her nose into his shirt, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

“I’m fine.”

Another shiver and he tuts in disapproval, and she is grateful for the distraction from his question, for him not pushing it further, for now.

“We have to find a place to stay. They might have rooms here, we can ask,” she whispers as the girls pass and disappear up a staircase, dropping them into silence once again.

“I’ve booked us a hotel, with an ostentatiously large comfortable bed, eternal hot water, and room service. Come on,” he explains, finding her hand against his chest and giving it a squeeze.

“But? Why?”

He shakes his head and leans down to capture her lips in a slow, sure kiss. She chases after his lips when he finally pulls away, and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I never want you to wonder where we’ll be sleeping again. We’ll keep it for as long as you want.”

“Killian,” she whispers, a touch of awe.

His lips brush her forehead before dropping her hand and walking over to wear she left her bag. He hikes it onto his back and comes back to join her, lending his hand out to her.

“Let’s set sail, love.”

She grabs on tightly but takes a last glance around.

“Wait, where’s Anna?”

“She slipped out with Kris. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”

Emma nods to herself but glances quickly towards the front desk. She finds the clerk, watching her over his book.

“Thank you, so much. Especially for the tea.”

He smiles and nods.

“Any time, the door is always opened.”

She leaves him with a last smile and lets Killian guide them to their hotel, never once letting go of her hand.

xo

The room is only dimly lit by the small bedside lamp, casting a golden glow across the white duvet. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking the outside world from intruding in and muting the late night sounds. The quiet calm, only disrupted by the central air kicking on in a cyclical fashion. Emma takes it all in with long, slow looks and deep even breaths.

She sits crossed-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, comfortably sinking into plush blankets. Her skin is pink from the hot water, fingers a little wrinkled from the generous amount of time she took in the shower and her hair sits in a messy bun a top her head. She is wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, practically disappearing into the soft cotton and in no hurry to get dressed.

She spots her bag across the room, slumped on a chair and knows she could find something dry to sleep in but she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to crawl under the covers, feel the warmth of Killian’s skin against hers and sleep for days, but that would require Killian being back by her side.

She listens and hears the water still running in the bathroom, he too choosing to luxuriate in the first real shower they’ve had in a long time.

She’d tried to convince him to join her, but for once he stood his ground.

“If you’re in there with me, my mind will only be focused on one thing.”

She’d pouted but followed him into the large bathroom.

“But,” she’d tried but he simply silenced her with kiss.

“Most importantly, we need to warm you up and then we can have a nice chat.”

He turned the water on and the bathroom slowly filled with steam. Satisfied he’d turned and helped rid her of her wet clothes. Each layer he’d peeled away, he’d kissed a new spot. Her shirt came off, a kiss to her shoulder. He knelt while pulling her leggings down, he’d pressed his lips to the jut of her hip, warm breath lingering as he looked up. He’d given her a little amused head shake as she whispered please.

“Come here, just for a second,” she’d tried a new tactic and pulled him up. Her naked self, deliciously pressed to his clothed front.

She’d kissed him hard, feeling him hard. She’d sighed and it had been his turn to shiver.

“Emma,” he’d warned. “This is why,” he’d added, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath before pulling away and pulling back the shower curtain.

“In you go. I’ll call for room service so it’s here when you get out.”  

She’d finally reluctantly agreed and here she is now, waiting for him.

She spies the plate of goodies besides her and while she really isn’t that hungry, she can’t resist the hot chocolate, a sprinkle of cinnamon still decorating the top of the whipped cream.

And that’s how he finds her, in the middle of the bed, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, mid-sip.

When he hesitates at the edge of the room, clad only in boxer briefs, she finishes her sip and drops the mug on the end table, licking her lips and encouraging him to join her.

It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s pulling the covers back, settling against the headboard and before he can protest or explain why it’s not a good idea, she’s straddling his lap, her shy smile quieting any words of concern.  

Her fingers trace his features, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re sure you won’t eat anything?” he asks, eyeing the barely touched plate.

She shakes her head slowly, finger tips running along the shell of his ear, down his neck and resting over his heart.

She likes that it beats just as wildly as hers.

“And you’re warm enough now?” he asks, hand running up under her robe to rest on her thigh.  

A nod.

He gives her a wry smile.

“So am I going to have to guess why you were so surprised I found you? Or was it that I was looking for you at all? Or are you going to tell me?”

Her eyes leave his lips and look up, worried she is going to find a trace of anger or disappointment but what she finds is a smile and patience and something that might be love. She thinks of the words on her postcard.

And thinks it might be time to be a little brave.

“I -- for a moment I thought maybe you left. That you realized what a mess I was. That you’d had enough and it was the perfect out.”

“Emma, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks for the lie and doesn’t see any.

“We could teach surfing in Doolin and eat fish and chips at that little diner every night,” he offers with a squeeze to her thigh.

“You were terrible at surfing.”

He shrugs, not offended.

“Eh, I was improving by the end.”

That gets a laugh out of her and a thought pops into her head, her own suggestion.

“We could run boat tour in Dingle.”

“And visit with Fungie every day,” he finishes for her, inciting another laugh.

But soon she falls quiet, eyes on her hands in her lap.

“Or,” she starts and stops.

He parts her robe just a bit and rest his warm hand over her frantically beating heart, her next suggestions on the very tip of her tongue.

“Or? Or what, Emma? Your heart is racing. Tell me.”

“Or we could go back to Storybrooke?” she finally asks, voice small, full of nerves, eyes downcast but his hand leaves her heart and trails up her neck, tipping her chin up.

“Okay.”

Emma blinks, the word barely registering. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Just like that?” she asks.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You just -- you’ve never mentioned it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs and attempts to move off but his hand and wrist fall to her hips, keeping her in place.

“You just, you talk of all these exotic and extraordinary places that you’ve already been to and all these new places you want to see. But you’ve never once mentioned anything in the US, never mind Storybrooke.”

Now he does look at her like she’s at least a little crazy, so she forges on.

“I know Storybrooke may not be as glamorous as Rome or Bali or wherever, but I need to go back.”

“Emma, those are all places we can visit someday if we want to, but now? I just assumed I’d be going back with you. Did you not think I would be by your side? I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

He looks away and seems to contemplate his next words.

“And perhaps I’ve been a little reluctant to talk about leaving because in one way, it means saying goodbye to Liam but--”

“It doesn’t!” she interrupts, cupping his face, passionate, sure of her statement and he smiles, turning his head to kiss her palm. “This is definitely not goodbye. This trip felt like a beginning and he’ll always be with you and any trip we take.”

“Thank you, I hope that’s true but that’s only part of what I need to explain. Perhaps you aren’t the only one with fears, Emma. I’ve quietly held onto my own worries, that you may not want me--” before he can finish his statement she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Take that back.”

And she doesn’t move her hand away until she sees the smile reach his eyes and the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll have me?” he asks, hand slipping down to the knot in her robe.  

“Of course.”

His fingers deftly undo the loose knot, warm hand parting her robe further, slipping it off her shoulders to pool around her waist.

“When do we leave?” he asks, moving closer, mouth finally, finally, moving along the curve of her neck, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

“Not right now.”

She feels his smile as his lips reach her jaw and move to her ear.

“How long do we have this room for again?” she asks, her voice grows softer with each press of his lips. She arches as he cups her breast, fingers finding her nipple, teasing, pinching and making her gasp.

“As long as you like.”

“A few days then, just you and me.”

Her hips rock slowly.

And she feels his groan against the curve of her shoulder before he flips them, hovering over her.

“As you wish,” he whispers as she helps him with his boxers, lowering them over his hips.

He moves against her, where she’s wet and aching for him, they both sigh.

“I’m sorry for running,” she whispers, voice tight with emotion.

He shakes his head, before capturing her lips, grounding her.

He pulls back, finding her eyes before sliding home, they both groan.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He pulls out before sliding back, stealing her breath and taking them late into the night, together.

xo

The next few days tumble into a week, and while she would like to say they visited all the sights, explored Dublin, got lost in history and legend, in reality they barely left the room. They rarely got dressed for that matter and it was more than okay.

They did manage to see Anna and Kris once, where Emma pulled Anna aside and thanked her for everything.

And they did get dressed to taste some whiskey at the Jameson Distillery before tumbling back into bed, a little warm, a little drunk and full of laughs that melt into moans.

But catching her breath on her final days in Dublin, Emma thinks that she might remember those days and nights caught up in each other, just as clearly as some of the most beautiful cliffs and ancient castles.

She’ll remember the comfort she felt, waking up each day, knowing there was no end no matter what happened next.

It’s this comfort that allowed her to finally pick up the phone and reach out to David and Mary Margaret. With Killian by her side, nodding encouragingly, it had been easier to not hang up when someone picked up after the first ring. It was his hand in hers that helped her apologize for taking so long to call and when Mary Margaret had protested immediately, telling Emma to take all the time she needed, it was his smile that had her asking if they could and meet and talk when she got back home.

“Any time, any where, anything you need. Oh, thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret had whispered and Emma had known it was finally time.

They booked their flight the next day.

And as their plane climbs higher and higher into the sky, and Dublin slowly disappears from view, she knows they’ll be back again one day.

“Okay?” he whispers as they reach cruising altitude. Emma casts a last look out the window before pulling down the shade.

“Perfect. Just tired.”

“Sleep then, I’ll be here when you wake.”

She drops her head to his shoulder and does just that.

xo

“So this is where Emma Swan calls home,” Killian says as she lets them into her little apartment, flicking on a light and breathing in the familiar smell. She glances back to him as he drops his bag and kicks off his shoes.

“I think wherever you are is home.”

She says and quickly retreats further into the house, shaky hands holding the flowers that were on her doorstep when they arrived. She had told Mary Margaret and David when they were getting in and they had kindly sent a welcome home gift.

It was surreal. She couldn’t believe things were going this smoothly, that maybe she was allowed to be this lucky.

“Swan, are these all the postcards you wrote?”

His voice is distracted, far away. She freezes as she fills a vase with water but then after a beat she lets out a slow breath.

“Unless someone else was sending me post cards.”

“Will you allow me the honor of reading them?”

She smiles at his words and then thinks of what saying yes would mean.

Should he? So many of her truths are on there. So many words to him. Now that she thinks of it, they weren’t so much postcards as love letters to Killian.

“Now?”

“Mmm,” comes his distracted reply, maybe already glancing at the back. Although she knows if she says no, he’ll drop it. It’s that truth that makes her say yes.  

“Sure, go for it. I’ll just be in my room, second door on the right,” she finally responds, not like he won’t be able to find her in the small space.

She thinks maybe she can unpack, maybe she should shower, maybe -- maybe she can’t do anything until he comes to find her or she hears the front door slam shut after he runs away. She shakes the image right out of her head. She knows he won’t do that but what will he think?

Minutes pass and she settles at the edge of the bed, lying back and letting her legs dangle over the edge. She counts her breaths in an attempt to stay calm. After awhile she hears his quiet footfalls down the hall, until they come to a stop in her room.

“Emma,” he whispers but she can’t bring herself to move. She closes her eyes and he walks in further. She feels him standing at the edge of the bed, knees brushing her bent ones.

“Is it too much?”

She peeks up at him through one eye.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters in the most loving way possible and then he tells her to wait and disappears. She hears him unzip his bag and rummage around.

He comes back, still only her postcards visible in his hand.

“I love all of these. Thank you for letting me see a little glimpse into your thoughts but I have to admit, there is one I like one most of all.”

He holds up the last one, the one holding the words ingrained in her mind. She holds her breath.

“I do, I do,” he echoes the last line to her and she scrambles to sit up.

“You do?” she whispers, her question imbued with hope, with awe.

“I do. I love you too.”

She’s not going to cry again, she not going to -- he tosses the postcards onto the bed, scattering beside her and reaches into his pocket.

“Whoa.”

He smiles indulgently, fingers holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

“Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing but this is a promise. That it’s you and me, Emma, as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want you to worry about --”

“Yes.”

His words trail off and his eyebrow pops up, a grin she loves so much, pulling at his lips.

“Swan?”

“I’m not worried, not about you. It’s you and me.”

He opens the box and gently removes the ring, and even though it’s not a proposal, when he slips the delicate claddagh ring on her finger, she knows it’s forever.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

“Always.”

“And not just that day in Dublin.”

“I know, Swan and I’m pretty sure you found me too.”

He kisses her again and again, following her onto the bed.

She cups his face, pulling back long enough to make sure she has his attention.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

She pulls him down again, vowing to never ever let go.

THE END.

---

My goodness. That’s it. 

Thank you for reading, I loved writing these two and thank you for coming along on their journey. 

It’s possible I may write a look into their future because I don’t want to say goodbye but... we’ll see.

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Poor Belle.” She reached out and laid a hand on Killian’s arm. He was clearly agitated. “Security will sort it all out, okay? We’ve had crazy shit happen before, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just hope Belle’s okay. She has such a kind heart, and she’s good for my brother. I’d hate for him to have to go home so soon over all this.”

Emma just rubbed his arm in silence for a moment. “Do you want to cancel our rehearsals for today? Go make sure Liam’s alright?”

Killian shook his head. “We’ve missed so much rehearsal time already. And aren’t we choreographing the group number this afternoon?”

He had a point, so despite Killian’s obvious worry, they headed back to their usual studio. They jumped right into their waltz, working hard all morning. It seemed to calm Killian to have something to focus on. In the midst of everything, Emma never did bring up the TMZ pictures.

******************************************************

Emma and Killian had been teamed up with two athletes for the group dance: figure skater Aurora Briar who danced with Sean Herman, and NFL football player Lance Knight who was partnered with Gwen Pendragon. They had to dance to the song “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Goyte. Gwen had been on the show almost since the beginning, and kind of took charge. Emma wanted to do a vampire themed paso doble, but Gwen decided that they would do a dance patterned more after the song’s music video. So the number ended up being a combination of a tango and a modern piece, and the story was about three widowers looking at the paintings of their deceased wives. The paintings came to life, and the dance ensued.

Killian argued that after Emma’s incredible choreography with “Heart Shaped Box,” she should have more say. But Emma pulled him aside to talk him down.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she hissed at him.

“Your idea was way better, Swan,” he argued, “and the judges still score this dance.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Emma told him, “but Gwen’s been on this show for a really long time. She’s already won the mirror ball twice and gotten three Emmy nominations for her choreography.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Lance teasingly asked if they were finished kissing in the corner. Emma turned bright red, thinking back to those TMZ pictures they had never discussed.

“Shut up, Lance!” Emma shot back.

Killian deflated and gave Emma a sheepish smile as he scratched behind his ear.

“Sorry, love, I just see so much talent in you. I hate to see it underappreciated.”

Emma felt her heart soar at his words. She had worked so hard for so many years, yet always felt under other people’s shadows. Namely her brother’s and her sister’s. The fact that Killian saw so much in her was both encouraging and terrifying.

They went back to the rest of the group, and Killian behaved himself. He and Aurora were the stronger celebs when it came to picking up the choreography, but Lance was determined, as athletes usually were on the show. Killian provided good balance for the two intense competitors, getting both Aurora and Lance to laugh and enjoy the group dynamic. Emma marveled at his ability to get along with everyone so easily. She wished she had that quality.

The rest of the days leading up to the Halloween episode flew by. They filmed the requisite clips of their team trash-talking the other one and pretending to “spy” on the other group’s rehearsals. In the frenetic pace of everything, those pictures on TMZ never came up. Even the media seemed to lose interest as news that Belle French had put out a restraining order on Robert Gold consumed everyone’s attention. Killian had been worried that Gold would press assault charges against his brother, but when the obsessive content of the man’s texts and emails to Belle became public, the billionaire had other things on his mind. And Emma hated herself for even thinking it, but part of her was glad that the drama with Gold would be at the forefront of everyone’s minds in the studio come Monday afternoon.

*****************************************************

Emma and Killian, for the first time all season, were scheduled to dance first for the Halloween episode. The set department, like every Halloween, had outdone themselves. Emma had asked for a graveyard, and they had delivered. A black iron gate flanked the dance floor, and in between were an assortment of tombstones. Dry ice sent fog billowing throughout the scene.

“Did they have to use my actual name?” Killian whispered in her ear as she took her place in front of the largest of the tombstones. It read in large, block letters: “Killian Jones.”

Emma just shrugged at him. “Better you than me,” she teased, “now go find your mark.”

He squeezed her hand before walking to the other side of the dance floor and taking his place behind one of the iron gates. The premise of their dance was fairly simple: Emma was a bride widowed on her wedding day. The costume department had made her a gorgeous lace wedding gown that was tattered and stained with blood. Black roses adorned her hair, which was down in a messy mass of curls. Killian, the deceased groom, was dressed in a tux that was in similar shape, and the makeup department had rubbed his skin with white foundation. But the truly gruesome part were the bloody wounds they had added to his face.

“The makeup team sort of knocked the handsome out of me,” he had joked to Emma when she first saw him.

Emma had just shaken her head and laughed. “No make-up artist is that good.” She swore she could see him blush through his heavy foundation.

The video package this week was fairly innocuous. It focused more on the storyline of their dance and silly Halloween jokes than on the actual content of their rehearsals. As it wound to a close, Emma knelt before the tombstone, a black rose in her hand. Camera angles would make it appear to the viewing audience at home that Killian’s ghost appeared out of nowhere to dance with her.

The strains of “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra began to play as Emma set the rose on top of the tombstone. As she always did when performing, Emma reached deep inside of her, to emotions that she normally kept buried. My character has lost her lover, Emma lectured herself internally, She’s alone and grieving.

Later, Emma would try to pinpoint exactly what opened the floodgates of pain, but she could never decide if were the first melancholy notes of music or the gentle touch of Killian’s hand on her shoulder. Whatever it was, she danced the waltz with a raw emotion she had never experienced before. It wasn’t just the grieving widow who was desperate to hold onto her lover, it was Emma as well. Killian fed off her energy, and they both grasped for one another in an almost desperate way. It was truly a dark waltz, just like the song said.

At the end, when Emma spun back around to find Killian’s “ghost” suddenly gone, her own choreography called for her to collapse to the ground in grief. It didn’t, however, call for tears. Yet they came anyway. Something about the character being so utterly, completely alone - abandoned forever -tore at Emma in a way she couldn’t explain. Emma choked, attempting to hold the tears at bay, yet they streamed down her face anyway. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths through her nose, but they wouldn’t stop. Soon, Killian was there, helping her up to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest where her tears wet his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, making no move to steer her towards the judges.

Emma took a long, shaky breath and nodded as the tears finally stopped flowing. She gave Killian a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching up to brush her tears away with his knuckles. “Are you sure, love?”

She nodded, her cheeks flooding with heat. She turned towards the judges with shaky steps, Killian’s arm a strong support at her waist. The judges and most of the audience were on their feet. Marco asked her a question – something about her emotions - and she stumbled over some kind of answer about being swept away by the story. She wasn’t entirely sure due to the roaring in her ears. She barely registered what any of the judges said. Tiana had to deduct points for an illegal lift, but otherwise, the feedback was positive. Upstairs, the roaring in her ears continued as Ashley interviewed them. It mostly consisted of Ashley marveling over Killian’s disturbing makeup. Emma had a feeling her partner was trying to intentionally pull the attention away from her and her emotional outburst because he laughed and teased Ashley for several minutes about his fake bloodied face. Then the scores were announced: two tens and a nine. Emma was still numb as Killian grabbed her in a tight hug, pulling her up off her feet. The second Ashley announced a commercial break, Emma dashed for the backstage area, ripping off her mic as she went.

Emma found a corner behind the plywood sets and lowered herself shakily to the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in the circle of her arms. She felt the black roses atop her head slip down over one ear.

“Please mates,” she heard Killian’s voice behind her, “give her some bloody privacy.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and thinking back to the start of their dance, shuddered at his touch. “I sent the camera guys away,” he told her softly, “so if you want to tell me what happened out there –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, “I don’t.”

“I’d like to help –“

“Killian,” she snapped, “leave me alone. Please.”

She heard him release a long sigh, then his hand slipped from her shoulder. It fell silent around her again, and she assumed he had done as she had asked. Then a hand touched her elbow.

“Damn it, Killian, I said –“ Emma’s words died on her lips when she lifted her face to see her brother kneeling beside her. “Oh,” she muttered sheepishly, pushing hair out of her face, “I didn’t know it was you.”

David shifted so he was sitting on the floor next to her, his arm around her. Emma sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder like she used to when she was a kid. For several minutes, they just sat there. Ariel appeared at the far end of the corridor, her silhouette outlined by the stage lights behind her.

“David, we’ve got a troupe dance in five!”

“Gimme a minute!” he snapped back in irritation. Ariel shrugged and headed back towards the stage.

Emma dug an elbow into her brother’s ribs. “You better get going.”

David made no move to leave. Finally, he leaned over and whispered against her hair. “It was about Neal, wasn’t it?”

Emma stiffened.

“You don’t have to be so tough, Emma,” he told her gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emma groaned, “and the last thing I want to do is talk about this on some therapist’s couch.”

David actually chuckled. “Oh, I think Mom and I have given up on trying to get you to do that. But you know, you’ve got a family of four people. Five, if you count Mary Margaret, which she would. And not one of us would mind being a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. We may not be a conventional family, but we all love you.”

“David, come on!” It was now Ruby shouting for her brother.

“Go,” she told him, giving him a shove, “before you get fired.”

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Emma yanked the crown of depressing flowers off her head and threw them aside. Black roses. No wonder it brought back memories of Neal.

**************************************************

It was past two in the morning, and Emma couldn’t sleep. And after how the show ended today, she desperately needed to. The results had been a shock to everyone: no one had been eliminated. In retrospect, Emma should have seen it coming. The producers hadn’t given the pros even a hint of what the theme was for the week. Turned out, it was one that always proved dramatic: partner switch week. Instead of dancing with Killian, she had been paired with baseball player August Booth. Emma groaned as she stirred her hot chocolate. Baseball players were notoriously stiff dancers. It could be Leroy all over again. At least the guy was attractive.

Emma shuffled over to the couch and settled down with a heavy quilt draped across her legs. She took a sip of her cocoa as she sagged against the cushions. Retrospection wasn’t one of Emma’s strengths, but she attempted to at least pin down what was bothering her. Knowing she had to dance with a new partner was stressful, so it could be that. Or maybe it was the second dance she would have to do with Killian: a dance off against Elsa and Graham of all couples. They were definitely going for drama next week, that was for sure.

Then Emma remembered her embarrassing meltdown on a live television show. She set down her mug and buried her head beneath the covers. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sleep because her emotions were too close to the surface. Fear and pain that she had pushed aside for ten years had come bubbling up without warning. Why now?

Emma’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, lit up with a text message. She snatched it up, curious as to who would be contacting her at such an ungodly hour. She blinked to see a message from Killian.

I’m outside, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Everything okay?

I’m actually here because I’m worried YOU aren’t okay.

Emma let out a long breath. She gnawed on her lower lip, considering, then rose from the couch with the quilt still wrapped around herself. She opened the door to see Killian on the other side, his gaze hesitant. She was surprised to see him in a baseball cap.

“How did you even know I would be up?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess? You seemed pretty shaken up today.” He shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t sleep either.”

Emma gave him a teasing smile. “That worried about switching partners?”

He smiled back. “Maybe I am. I’m sure Jasmine is a fine dancer, but there’s only one Emma Swan.”

Emma felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, standing there in her plaid pajamas with a ratty old quilt draped over her shoulders. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Look, Killian, everyone’s asleep –“

“I know,” he interrupted quickly, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not really in the mood for partying.”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I had something else in mind. You can even stay in your PJs, and . . . are those wookie slippers?”

Emma chuckled as she shuffled her feet, “A Christmas present from Henry.”

“Ah, I see.” She suddenly realized that Killian himself was in a long sleeve tee and jeans, in addition to the cap. It was the most casual she had ever seen him.

“Um,” Emma mumbled, letting go of one end of the quilt so she could tuck her wayward hair behind her ears, “I’ll go change. Just wait here.”

Emma quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped into a pair of flip flops, joined Killian outside, and they headed downstairs to his car.

“Never seen you in a hat,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want any more pictures getting out.”

Emma felt herself blush as he opened his car door for her. “So you saw those.”

“Aye,” he said as he slid behind the driver’s wheel, “I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but I know you’re not. I hope you weren’t too upset by it.”

“I was at first, but nothing came of it, so . . . “ Emma trailed off, unsure what else to say. The pictures honestly seemed like a whole lot of nothing compared to the memories that wouldn’t quit invading her mind since their waltz that afternoon. Silence settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Emma leaned her head against the window, looking up at the hazy LA sky.

“I just want you to know,” Killian said softly, “that I’m doing this as a friend. I can tell your heart is troubled, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Emma turned to examine his profile as he concentrated on driving. She pulled her knees to her chest as she took in the sincerity of his expression. Neal had made her cynical, untrusting, and yet here she was driving through LA with an actor of all people at 2:30 in the morning. She closed her eyes and waited for the panic to set in. She was shocked when it never came.

The rest of the twenty minute drive was a quiet one. Finally, Killian pulled up to a marina on the coast where a row of sleek yachts were moored. Emma got out, eager to feel the sea breeze on her face. Killian came to walk beside her, resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her up the pier.

“You have a boat?”

“Aye,” Killian answered, stopping in front of a yacht with gold trim and the name The Jewel of the Realm painted on the side in navy blue, “and here she is.”

“She’s not The Jolly Roger?” Emma teased as he helped her on board.

“No, but Jewel of the Realm,” he replied, emphasizing the first letters, “see what I did there?”

Emma nodded, “I get it.”

“Now, Swan,” Killian told her, guiding her up a ladder to a deck area on top of the yacht, “I want you to relax while I get us out a little ways from shore.”

Emma looked at the pile of cushions and blankets artfully scattered around. She arched a brow at Killian. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Killian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said in the car. I find the sea calming. That’s all I want to give you, Emma. A little bit of peace from your troubles. If I can.”

Emma swallowed nervously, taking a quick step back. She hadn’t been expecting him to sidestep such an open invitation to an innuendo. This kind offering of friendship was almost harder to deal with than his flirting. Emma masked her discomfort with a joke. “Well that’s good because I may just fall asleep.”

Killian ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “If so, then my work here is done.”

He turned to go down to the wheel, but Emma stopped him. “Wait. You – you’ll come back up in a few minutes, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, love, as soon as I lay anchor.”

Once he had left, Emma sank down to the cushions and drew a blanket around herself. The air here on the water was a bit chillier than in the city. She leaned back, tilting her head up to look at the sky. As they headed farther out to sea, she could see stars twinkling overhead. Killian was right; it was calming. The rocking of the boat and the repetitive whooshing sound of the water caused Emma to drift off for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the cutting of the engine and a loud splash awakened her. Killian came back up the ladder, smiling softly at her as he settled in next to her. They both lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. Killian said nothing, and Emma appreciated the silence. When she finally spoke, she could only manage a whisper.

“His name was Neal.”

Killian turned to look at her, “Henry’s father?”

Emma nodded, looking away from his gaze and up at the stars instead. “I was sixteen when I met him online. I had a MySpace page, and that’s where we started talking. He said he was eighteen.” Emma fiddled with the edge of the blanket across her lap. “I was young and stupid, shared too much personal information. He wanted to come to one of my dance competitions.” Emma let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s when I found out he wasn’t eighteen.”

Still Killian didn’t speak, but he brushed his hand against hers. Emma grasped it, threading her fingers with his like they always did on the dance floor.

“He was twenty-five,” Emma continued. She chanced a glance at Killian, but his only reaction was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Anyway, Ingrid never knew he was at that competition. He made me promise not to tell anyone about him. He said people wouldn’t understand. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful. Said that watching me dance was mesmerizing. I convinced myself it was love.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” he told her softly.

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want to. I need to.” The next part was the hardest to tell. “It was always at my competitions that we would meet. This went on for a year. When I was seventeen, he asked me for a dance lesson. So I snuck out of my hotel room where the competition was being held . . .“

Suddenly, Emma felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. She sat up, struggling to breath. Killian sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. She put her head between her knees, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, the way Ingrid had taught her.

“Did he rape you?” Killian asked gently.

Emma shook her head as she let out a long, cleansing breath. “No, but it was the night I lost my virginity. Like I said, I thought it was love. After that, he . . . changed. He became more demanding of my time, more intrusive, more critical. It became harder and harder to hide things from Ingrid, but Neal kept saying that she would never understand the way he loved me. But Ingrid knew something was wrong. I was skipping rehearsals, my grades were dropping, I was tired all the time. She and I were always fighting. It was the same with David and my sisters. I started pulling away from them. Neal encouraged it. Only now can I see that he wasn’t who he said he was.”

By the time Emma finished, tears were pouring down her face. She turned towards Killian, who let her fall against his chest as ugly sobs tore at her. She hadn’t cried like this in over ten years. His arms tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he told her brokenly. “Does he know about Henry?”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he disappeared? I told him I was pregnant, and that was it. I couldn’t reach him; not online, not by phone. It was like he took what he wanted from me, and when things got complicated, just like that, he was gone.”

Killian said nothing, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing sounds of the water.

“I guess, that dance. . . Neal left me broken. Somehow, I tapped into that pain today.”

Killian still didn’t let her go, and Emma felt herself go limp against him. She had never felt so safe in a man’s arms before. “Did he go to jail?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma breathed out shakily, “I was so freaked out, it was weeks before I told Ingrid about the baby. By then, I had deleted my MySpace page. I just wanted to erase him from my life. Maybe his name wasn’t even Neal. Who knows?”

“But you didn’t let him stop you from dancing. You are so strong, Emma Swan.”

“And I have Henry,” she added, a wistful smile spreading across her face. “Being a dancer, and young, I was pretty far along before I knew about him. When I saw his little hands and feet on that ultrasound, I knew I could never give him up.”

“Does he know?”

Emma nodded. “I’ve always tried to be honest with him; explaining things as he was old enough to understand them. And he’s had a heck of an internet safety talk, believe me. Multiple times.”

“He’s a tough lad,” Killian said, “like his mother.”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace, brushing at tendrils of hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks. “Ugh. I’m not acting so tough right now.”

The captain of the Gilded Wing, in his wisdom, decided piracy was not for him. With his bonny bride and an assortment of ex-privateers, they become a well respected merchant vessel and tradeship. Some said it was his charming and silver tongued demeanor, while others swore he was the gruffest man they ever traded with. Either way, his coffers were that of a king. If anyone asked about the haggard blonde and dark haired man with one hand juggling two wide eyed babes, they received no answers. Silence was a deafening warning.

The Jolly Roger is rumored to have sank in a battle with the Gilded Wing, the reckless captain duo of pirate lovers, Hook and Swan, finally finding a watery grave; together even in death.

Sightings of a glowing ship flying their flag are whispered among slave ships and crooked pirates who deal in innocent blood. It appears out of a dense fog, a ghostly enchantress with blonde hair whipping in the wind with her eternal love at her side, coat flapping and hook raised. Demons who leave no survivors except those bound in chains or held in a brig. Ghosts who steal back treasure that was taken wrongfully.

Or, as Emma calls it, 'date night’.

More children join the twins on the timbers of The Wing. Snow unexpectedly going into labor with her son Leo six months after the twins are born. Luckily, Whale and Tink had decided to stay on. David loses his mind with worry at not being prepared, but Snow breezes through the delivery right into motherhood.

“I didn't even get morning sickness, and I really didn't gain much weight. I'm lucky I didn't do anything crazy, or my labor might have been earlier and rougher,” Snow confides in Emma, as they nursed together in the sunshine of the deck. Leo latches easily, Snow smiling serenely. Emma has a foot in her face and both of her beloved children have fistfuls of her hair.

“Well, aren't you special,” Emma grumbled.

Maggie watches their twins with joy, bouncing them on her knees and singing to them while letting them eat as much pie as their small hands can grab. She quilts them beautiful blankets and knitted toys. Her shy husband even makes wooden toys for them, and does small magic tricks. Emma realizes that the shy bearded man is the tallest dwarf she’s ever seen slightly too late, and he laughs it off without worry. “i used to get grumpy about that sort of thing, but up here? I’m dreamy,” Leroy tells her, and he comes out of his shell completely.

Some of the crew leaves, as is expected when things change. They say goodbye to Rory and Phillip first, as the call comes that they can return for the throne of their homeland. Rory starts to send letters to them with her full name, Aurora, detailing palace life and asking for advice on policy. Emma finds it dreadfully boring, but David, Killian and Snow have vigorous debates on the shaping of the country.

Graham and Ruby leave to start a pack in unclaimed territory of the Enchanted Forest, gathering lone wolves and setting up rules that soon become a permanent structure. While there is still an ogre problem, the pack is strong and faces the danger head on.

Mal and Z return to the dragon lands together, slipping away quietly and without much notice. Killian can only laugh as he watches two dragons on the horizon disappear into the sunset.

Graham and Ruby return to say hello now and then when The Wing docks in The Enchanted Forest. Eventually, they rejoin the crew, the risk of Ogre attack while Ruby raises their litter of three beautiful boys deemed too dangerous by Graham. Hunter, Willow, and Forrest all have the same dark brown shock of hair, heavily taking after their father. To Graham, his small pack is everything, and Ruby feels the same; they'll forego the change to raise their young with no regrets. Emma happily brews them a Lunar Stasis draught, and they fall into the routine easily, Ruby complaining about constantly having a babe to her breast while the other women nod and bounce her other triplets.

Mal and Z do not visit. Instead, they extend an invite to show off their egg. The entire crew doesn't know what will be inside, until they get a bans stating, ‘It’s a girl! (Dragon, but currently unable to transform). Please welcome Lily.’

Snow notes the design is lovely, irregardless of the strangeness of the message.

Regina and Robin welcome a beautiful dark haired girl around the time the twins see eighteen months, and a once hardened Regina softens completely. They name her for a powerful enchantress in another realm, Lucinda, or Lucy for short.

Snow and David welcome a blonde tufted girl to the world soon after Regina’s daughter is born and Leo turns one, David immediately finding himself wrapped around his daughter's finger. They name her Ruth after his and Emma's mother. Leo is insanely jealous, but makes do by going through a shrieking stage.

Merida and Fa finally get married, the ceremony a complete hodgepodge of both of their cultures that somehow not only works, but works well. Plaid tartan and silk floral prints drape a verdant forest glade, a bamboo archway placed where they exchange vows. There's a tea ceremony followed by knotting their hands in a complex golden rope. The reception is visited by Merida’s estranged brothers, who finally accept she is not after their claim to the throne.

Emma dreams, or more appropriately, has nightmares of a dark castle that crumbles and rots. Something slithers and its claws click and scrape on the moss covered stones. A man calls out, his eyes burning behind brown irises, blood on his hands as he feeds a golden monstrosity. Willing herself to wake up, they look at her and she swears the scaled creature smiles, not a man but a beast, next to another pretender of a lost boy in the guise of a man and warlock. The warlock looks at her hungrily, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he surveys her body. The creature only glares. Together they are a golden eyed man who chases her in the recurrent night terror. Somehow she knows they are a portent of doom, but the dreams fade fast as she wakes up thrashing, soothed by Killian.

Smee's lap is a source of argument amongst the rowdy lot of toddlers, especially as he reads stories aloud. He always has a knack for getting a hold of rare items - and by rare items, he means sugary sweets that have been the bane of his old captain’s existence. Luckily, these days, the Captain is a dear friend and his Missus is in on Smee's trade. The Twins lead the pack at two years old, Emma and Killian no longer running ragged but instead, thriving in a new sort of chaos.

Killian still hooks yarn together, darning socks and making less lumpy blankets for anyone who needs them, and constantly making socks for little feet. With a little finesse, he’s able to make a few rudimentary stuffed toys, until suddenly he has made an assortment of soft toys. Esper is fond of a jellyfish the color of lilacs, while Ian chooses a shark, making roaring noises that rattle the timbers of the deck. Leo chooses a lion, his father beaming, Ruth clinging to a plush ginger kitten. Lucy chooses a frog with a giggle, Killian’s handiwork clear as the frog has a curled tongue in its mouth. It becomes a tradition for him to make something for new crew, and he frequently gets requests.

Jefferson and August finally decide to be more than just an occasional fling that happens more than just occasionally. They depart after the space becomes crowded and August expresses interest in traveling down many different rabbit holes. They are only seen on big holidays, bringing the most ridiculous gifts from their travels. Killian eventually bans any gift that makes ‘extravagant and unnecessary noise’ after a teapot given to Esper keeps singing off tune and nonsensical nursery songs at all hours.

After a particularly intense night of freeing slaves, Fa finds a small wide eyed girl clinging to her belts. Merida is immediately in love with the ginger haired child with stormy gray eyes, and no one bats an eye when suddenly, a young, wild haired girl is leading the pack of children across the decks. Not given a name, Fa coaxes her to choose one whenever she is ready, her quiet voice soothing as she stroked the girl's hair. Fa tells her stories, and Merida tells her tall tales and myths. She eventually chooses the name Rowan for its strength, just like her mothers.

Rory and Phillip send word from their kingdom that they have a daughter, naming her Rose. The crew attends the announcement ceremony, happily greeting their long time friends: Jasmine and Aladdin, now rulers of Agrabah; Tiana and Naveen, happily avoiding royalty in their restaurant; the vibrant ex-mermaid Ariel and an ecstatic Eric. Esperanza takes to Ariel, who despite being in what Emma refers to as 'the 200 months pregnant stage’, keeps her two and a half year daughter entertained. Ian, like his father or mother (depending on the day and who you asked), made trouble by slipping a tray of pastries under a skirted table, sharing his loot with his cousins, and inducing a glorious sugar crash.

In the brief moment of peace, Emma and Killian disappeared into one of the quieter roped off parts of the palace.

“We have to -” Killian's mouth met hers, demanding and hungry, intimacy not in short supply but not frequent either, always having to be carefully planned. Spontaneous escapes like this were rare if not unheard of. “Be quick,” Emma moaned as he nipped at her collar bone, hiking up her skirts.

“Bloody hell, I don't want to be quick,” he murmured against her throat, licking a trail to her ear. “I'd love to taste you, mark you -”

“For now.” She palmed him through his trousers and he hissed. “This. I need to feel you inside me.”

Another crash of their lips, her hands finding his belt as he pushed her against a wall, fingers pumping inside her wetness until he was freed. Moaning into his mouth as he thrust into her in a smooth motion, Killian grabbed her leg to pin her tightly between the wall and his body.

While it was fast and hard, it was also passionate. Emma clawed at him and they moaned together, savoring the heat that sparked every time they connected. They came together, each other's names sweet in their mouths. Sneaking back to their seats, only David narrowed his eyes with a shake of his head. Killian gave him a cocky nod and a wink.

Will and Belle had almost given up trying, but finally welcomed a tiny baby girl into the world. They named her Victoria, and Will finally got his comeuppance for teasing his fellows about crying when their children were born. He sobbed, holding his baby for the first time, her small hands making his look so large. Belle lay sick after they birth for several weeks, Will reading to her and rocking their babe as the crew took care of her, the day she wa finally able to come up on the sunshine of the deck with her small baby girl celebrated.

Whale gave in to Tink’s demands, accepting a steady stipend paid for him to stay on board to provide care for the children he delivered and their mothers. His bedside manner did not improve but deckside, Uncle Vic was a delight to as many children he could chase as they pretended he was a monster.

The Gilded Wing was alive with activity and noise from dawn until dusk, tired parents staying up when they had the energy to make conversation or nodding at each other in shifts as they groggily bounced or rocked children back to sleep in time with the ocean’s sway.

Emma found herself on deck more often than not. Esperanza was still a sickly child who needed the fresh night air. The Twins were almost three, talking non-stop and inquisitively taking in the world. It was exhausting. Luckily, Ian slept like the dead, his wild running throughout the day leading to a blessedly quiet wind down. Esper fought sleep, longing for starlight and the moon, Emma whispering constellations gently in her dark hair until Killian joined them on deck or she joined him in their bed.

Laying a finally sleeping Esper down in her bunk above Ian's, Emma made her way through the quiet corridor, slipping into bed and her waiting husband's arms.

“I love you,” he murmured in her ear, and when her answer didn't come in return, he cracked open an eye. “Love?”

“When was the last time I bled?” she whispered, facing away from him.

“I figured two weeks ago; you were moodier than usual and I let you be.” Killian replied drowsily. Her hand guided his to her stomach, a familiar swell against his palm jerking him awake. “Emma?”

“I didn't put the pieces together until a week ago. I should be just about four months along or so, maybe five. That’d be Rose's announcement ceremony. I haven't felt kicking yet -” Rolling her towards him, he captured her lips in his, grinning.

“You are a marvel, Swan. A bloody marvel. I love you so much. How do you feel? You're so small, I wouldn't have guessed...” Kissing her breathless, she pulled back laughing.

“Thank the Gods above and below, I believe there's only one this time. I'm fine. Tired, but fine.” Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead, blue eyes dancing as he looked down at her.

“Are you sure you can't make it two or three? David's lot is catching up to us, and if we get a nice lead -”

“Oh, shut up.” Smacking his chest and ignoring the salacious eyebrow wiggle he gives her, she doesn't ignore the steady beating of his heart as it lulls her to sleep.

Emma's second labor is easy, a chubby girl who is absolutely determined to prove her lungs work well. The name is long planned in advance; his mother’s name. Alice. She is fair haired and light eyed, a lighter shade of blue than Killian's own when they finally finish their change.

Liam's eyes, Killian tells Emma in the quiet still of the night. A reminder that even in all of this love, there are still scars and quiet pain they all share. Her arms around his neck is a soothing balm; each of them having a source of relief from old nightmares. Emma finally relents, and they spend some time in the small cabin on the cliffs he owns. She finds it’s not as terrible as she imagined and enjoys the quiet, or swinging on the creaky porch watching their children play. Not enough to give up the sea, or the ship, but enough to take reprieve when things get to be too much.

Killian reminds her that they’re old, but not that old. He reminds her frequently, until she tells him that she has suspicions that his reminders have ended in a well intentioned accident. Emma feels the movements earlier this time, hasn’t been as sick as her first pregnancy, but it’s still rough. Killian sits through a delivery that feels so much like when he almost lost her, so much strain and struggle, but Emma beams at him when it’s done.

“William?” she whispers softly, tucked into Killian’s side. He’s holding their last child and crying with her, arms wrapped around them both in the quiet before the rest of their children wake.

“William,” Killian agrees, pressing kisses on her sweaty forehead, making Emma chuckle. “Liam for short.” Her head lolls, exhaustion setting in although she fights it and the pain she's in with a grimace. When she shifts in the bed, Killian watches her with an ache in his chest as she swallows back whimpers and curses.

There’s no question about how close to leaving him she came again as her screams echo in his head, but Killian changes bloody sheets, and tells her after he’s sent their children off to play on deck that he loves her more than anything - That the thought of not having her sends him reeling. Pressing soft kisses to her pallid forehead, he cried into her hair, holding her tightly. Regina visits later with a potion that ends any worry for them, which thrills Killian even if it means his wild oats have ended their run.

Their children grow, and Piracy loses its appeal all together as raising them turns out to be much more terrifying and complicated than anticipated. Emma and Killian barely survive, the world around them changing rapidly, threats rising and danger around every corner.

Why wouldn’t it change, when someone finally let in a golden crocodile to their soul with open arms?

“Hurry, Your Majesty,” the palace guard with them said again gesturing to her mother.

“Emma, come on,” she said pulling her along.

She stumbled over the hem of the long coat she had been hastily shoved into as they hurried down the back corridors of the castle. She wanted to ask her mother to slow down but something stopped her, maybe it was the way her mother was gripping her hand so tightly or the crease between her eyebrows that she had never seen before.

This was different from the time she had smashed the vase the diplomat from Agrabah had brought, now her mother’s expression was more similar to the one Emma had seen after the council meetings that had taken up so much of her time recently. Meetings Emma wasn’t allowed to attend, meetings that caused her parents to have arguments in harsh whispers late at night. Hushed discussions of the Industrial Guild, the new trade agreements, and other things she didn’t understand.

The guard slid to a stop before an unremarkable stretch of stone wall. He ran his hands over the wall looking for something.

“We don’t have time for this,” her father whispered urgently as they watched the guard becoming more and more frantic as he traced the edges of each of the stones.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ll want to make time for this. There is no way you’re walking out the main gates,” the guard muttered before letting out an exclamation as his fingers hooked an unseen lever in the crack between two stones.

There was the grinding sound of gears from some mechanism behind the wall and slowly a small opening emerged until there was a narrow doorway into a dark passage. Emma baulked taking a small step back.

She had heard of the tunnels under the castle. There were stories the children of the castle would tell to scare each other, of ghosts and monsters that lived deep under the castle, always some creeping evil right under their noses that would slither out and grab them in the night. Those stories had kept her up at night haunting her and she would stayed curled up in bed her eyes glued to the doors and windows waiting for some dark shadow to appear. Eventually her mother had explained that they were just old smuggling tunnels that had been unused for years, but it hadn’t completely eased her fear.

“Mama, I don’t think-” Emma began pleading, she didn’t want to go down into the dark dank tunnels.

“Emma, please,” her father said already a step into the passage. She looked up to see him beckoning her forward. His expression more worried than she’d ever seen it. “We have to go now.”

With a swallow and all the courage she could muster, Emma took a small step after her parents. The moment she crossed into the passage the hidden door was slammed shut plunging them into total darkness. She reached out her hands searching for anything to grab hold of in the emptiness, something to guide her.

A greenish light flared from the luminator the guard pulled from his pocket. It made her blink and turn away squinting. The light cast sickly shadows over the rough hewn walls and made their faces look almost skeletal.

The guard waved them forward moving at a quick pace. Emma’s heeled boots clicked on the hard packed floors. Each corner, each new tunnel that branched off seemed to hold another creeping nightmare in the shadows. Instead of letting her imagination get the best of her she tried to think of where they might be in relation to the castle overhead. The kitchens? The council chamber? She thought again of her bedroom in one of the towers overhead. Suddenly it seemed like such a silly thing to have fought going to bed for so many years, now all she wanted was to curl into her warm bed and wait for this strange night to pass.

She had lost track of the turns they made and all sense of direction by the time they stopped at a worn and rusted door. The guard was speaking quickly to her parents giving instructions on how they would get to the port, what streets to avoid, and the name of the airship, the Legacy, that would take them to safety. Emma fidgeted with her coat, she didn’t know what they were talking about. She wondered at what age you started to understand adults when they talked like that, ten it seemed was still too young.

“Emma,” her mother said turning to her and kneeling down. “My sweet girl,” she placed her hands heavily on her shoulders. She looked up, she had never heard that waver in her mother’s voice before.

“Mama-”

“Listen, Emma, you have to run now, quiet as you can. We have to run to the port. We have to get on a ship and sail away from here.”

Emma shook her head trying to hold back the tears. Go? Go where? This was their home. What would happen to her room, her toys, her friends? When would they be back? was all too much. “But I don’t want to go.”

Her mother smiled sadly. “I know. I don’t want to go either.”

Emma frowned. “Then why, can’t we just-”

“Emma,” her mother said her eyes closing for a moment as she took a deep breath. “Emma, I want to give you something. Something that is very special.”

Another crash sounded, this one right over their heads causing a thin cloud of dust to float down around them. But Emma looked only at her mother, the way she slowly slipped off her ring, the silver band with the bright emerald. The one that never left her mother’s finger.

“This ring was given to me by your father, only after I’d stolen it from him of course,” Emma nodded she’d heard this story before. “But before that this ring belonged to your grandmother, it was given to her by her true love. This ring follows true love, it always brings true love together. Always. And this ring will always lead you back home.”

Then her mother was pressing the ring into her hand. Emma glanced between her parents before opening her hand to look at the ring, the way the green stone flashed in the dim light. She slipped the ring onto her own finger, but it was comically large on her small fingers and it made her feel suddenly very young. It wouldn’t fit properly for many years.

“I don’t know,” Emma said hesitantly wrapping her hand into a fist around the ring. “It’s your ring.”

Her mother shook her head. “But it’s not just my ring. The ring has magic and it’s protected our family. It will protect you too, Emma.”

When Emma didn’t seem convinced she continued, “If it would make you feel better, you can give it back to me when we get on the ship.”

Emma nodded slowly at first, but with her mother’s ring she did feel stronger, braver. She had the magic of her family and their true love with her.

Her mother pressed a small kiss to her forehead before she stood and gave a quick nod to the guard. “Now,” she said her voice commanding. The voice of the queen.

The door was flung open and the guard led the way into the shadowy street. Emma was just glad to be out of the tunnels. These streets were familiar to her, she had wandered them on many occasions. Just last week her father had taken her down to the market to pick out flowers for her mother.

But tonight there was something different about the streets. Tonight they were alive and roiling with an anger she had never seen. The shouting and explosions from within the castle seemed to have overflowed out into the town. There was a red haze across the town from several buildings on fire, flames licking at the sky, the windows bursting with a crash. Emma stayed close to her father as they ran down the curving streets.

At last the tops of the masts and the docking scaffold for the airships started to appear, looming over the roofs around them. But rather than going for the main dock the guard pointed them down an alley. He lead the way as they slunk through the shadows. This close to the ships they could hear the sailors shouting to one another.

“Hurry, just get what’s here loaded. We need to cast off before the riots get to the docks!” one voice called.

Emma shuddered at the panic in the man’s voice. What was happening?

“Our ship is just ahead. Ready?” the guard asked looking between her parents.

Emma watched as her parents eyes met, the way her father reached out to brush back a strand of her mother’s hair, the way he gave her hand a squeeze. He gave her a small smile, a sad smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Her mother gave him a small nod.

Her father grabbed Emma’s hand and they moved quickly across the docks hoping not to be noticed. She could read the name Legacy etched in silver lettering across the stern of the massive ship closest to them. Everywhere people pushed past them, most didn’t spare them a glance. It was strange, she was so used to crowds parting reverently for them, people bowing before her mother. Another shoulder slammed into her knocking her off balance, and she fell, the cobblestones scraping her knees. She huffed, brushing the dirt off her skirts when she sensed more than saw her parents freeze beside her.

“Hold,” the guard breathed and they all watched as a group of men dressed in all black picked their way through the dockworkers occasionally stopping people as if they were looking for someone. Everyone on the docks seemed to shrink back in fear as those strange men passed.

“Who are they?” her mother whispered, the words barely audible as Emma stood from the ground. She watched as the men continued to search the crowd, tipping back hats and checking faces, opening bags and traveling chests.

The guard shook his head. “We don’t know. There seems to be some connection to the Industrialist Guild and the inventor, Gold.”

“We should have never allowed-” Her father muttered before one of the mysterious men broke off from the group heading toward them. He was more menacing the closer he got. His large stature was exaggerated by the thick black wool cloak he wore over a thick military jacket with rows of brass buttons. And in the center of his chest a large talisman of interlocking gears hung from around his neck.

“The ship,” the guard said his gaze falling on each of them in turn as though to emphasize his words. “No matter what happens, get to the ship. The ship will get you out of here.”

“Look what we have here,” the man in the dark cloak said. His cold eyes seemed to take in every stitch of the guard’s palace uniform, and slowly slid over her father and fell at last on the queen. A small sneer appearing on his sallow lips.

He moved closer pulling a strange device from beneath his coat and leveling it at them, Emma could hear gears clicking from within it. It wasn’t like the wands of the fairies she seen, filled with light magic, this device seemed to radiate a power darker than magic. It thrummed in the air, sending shivers up her spine, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She pressed herself tightly to her father’s side.

“How dare you,” the palace guard growled pulling out his own small revolver and pointing it at the man. Emma’s heart was hammering in her chest.

“Don’t come any closer,” the guard warned tightening his grip on his gun. But the man made no reply and with a heavy footfall he slowly, deliberately, took another step forward. With deadly slowness the man reached up to lower a dark mask down from his hat over his nose and mouth. It obscured his face, turning him into a monster, his breathing harsh through the thin slits in the front.

The guard fired his gun, the shot echoing loudly around them making others on the dock cry out and scatter in panic. But the masked man simply took another step toward them seeming unharmed by the bullet. He kept his own weapon trained steadily at the Queen’s heart.

“I carry a message,” the man said his words clipped with a mechanical edge through the mask. “Your Majesty, abandon now all hope, your time is over. We are risen.”

Her father moved before Emma even knew what was happening. He shoved her mother quickly to the side just as the gun fired. It wasn’t like the ordinary bullet from the guard’s pistol. Instead it seemed to release a pulse and then a thickness hung in the air like heavy smoke, acidic, burning her eyes and throat. She choked reaching for her father’s hand but he pulled away, his fingers slipping through hers.

And all at once a strange numbness settled over her.

There were screams around her and another explosion. Emma blinked hard trying to clear the fog, from her eyes, from her mind. She moved, not even knowing if it was forward or backward. She only wanted to get away from the noise, the numb feeling spreading through her.

The ship, she remembered distantly. She needed to get on the ship.

“David!” someone screamed near Emma, the sound startling her.

And then there, a few feet away in the confusion, was her mother clinging to her father on the ground. Emma was stunned that for a moment she had forgotten about them. How could she have forgotten her family, even for a minute?

She tried to move toward them but the ground seemed to tilt beneath her with each step and she couldn’t find her balance. The distance between them seemed to stretch, making her parents suddenly far away, unreachable. Her senses rebelled against her, nothing made sense. It was like she was trapped in a nightmare. She gripped her mother’s ring tightly hoping it would protect them.

Emma stumbled another unsteady step forward seeing red blood bloom on her father’s shirt as her mother held him. Emma could only watch helplessly as the palace guard with them was swiftly overpowered by the man in the mask. And then there was nothing standing between her parents, her family, and the masked man . Her mother looked up, meeting his eyes through the mask, staring him down with a fiery gaze.

Emma’s mind seemed only able to focus on the details of the scene before her: her mother’s hands gripped the thick fabric of her father’s coat, the soft thud as her father’s hand dropped limply from her mother’s arm, the long shadows of the masts across the dock in the moonlight, the loud click as that strange gun loaded again, the blue fabric of her mother’s shoes where they peeked out from her skirts, the palace guard’s lifeless stare from the ground, and at last the deafening blast as the gun fired again.

Emma screamed, the sound horrible, tearing from her throat. Everything within her ripped free in a blast of light and heat. She could feel her heart pounding, her skin alight as if it were glowing with some forbidden force. Magic flared from her, turning the shadows to day, bursting out and knocking the masked man back. But she couldn’t control the power and all too soon it faded, leaving her feeling empty. She collapsed, engulfed again in the strange numbness, the world around her going black, her vision fading, every tether cut and she floated within herself, lost.

The last thing she felt was hands trying to pull her up. A voice telling her she needed to run, but it didn’t sound like anyone she knew. The ship. If she could just get to the ship. Maybe everything would be okay.

She was so tired but strong arms pulled her up and dragged her, her shoes slipping on the slick stones. “Stay with me, Princess,” someone said above her.

 July 9th, 2015—Boston, MS

 “Well, this is just perfect,” Milah sighs, leaning against the car with her prepaid cellular phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, hazel eyes piercing down at the screen. Chocolatey brown locks cascade over her shoulders in thick waves, lightly affected by the gentle breeze slicing through the muggy, midsummer air. The brunette is wearing a pair of black denim shorts and a bright red t-shirt, showing off her flat, milky stomach as she waits for her sister.

 Emma and Milah are the same age, twenty-four years old, but that’s where their physical similarities end. Emma has fair skin, luminous green eyes that sparkle through her thick-framed glasses, and golden sunshine hair pulled back into a high ponytail, the ribbon curls bouncing with every step as she makes her way to the car from the Stop ‘N Gas. Alternating between scratching off a lottery ticket with the edge of her car key and chewing on the Slim Jim tucked inside the palm of her hand, she’s wearing a white tank top and slim, dark blue leggings. “Damn… I guess it’s back to work tomorrow,” Emma grumbles through a mouthful of the dry meat snack, tearing the losing ticket in half and throwing it into the trashcan next to the gas pump. As she leans back on the yellow bug next to her sister, she swallows the food in her mouth and takes another bite of the Slim Jim.

 “Well that's too bad.” Milah tucks the phone in her pocket and takes a long drag of her cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke out of her mouth and letting it drift into Emma's direction.

 “Come ooo- onn !” Attempting to wave the smoke out of her face, Emma starts coughing as she breathes some of it in. “How many times do I have to tell you that smoking is bad for you?”

 “And Slim Jims aren't? You're eating processed beef that's made up of mechanically separated chicken, and is loaded with salt and preservatives,” Milah points out scornfully.

 Emma cringes and immediately stops chewing, feeling the urge to vomit. “You mean beef, right?” she mumbles with her mouth full.

 “Nope. The meat base is made of chicken,” Milah replies pretentiously, a sly grin crossing her lips. “Sounds appetizing, doesn't it?”

 Emma’s features twist in disgust, she spits the chewed-up remains into the trash can and throws away what’s left in the wrapper with a snide retort. “At least I can't be afflicted with lung disease from eating Slim Jims. I'd rather be clogging up my arteries than breathing through a ventilator for the rest of my life. Besides, it's hazardous to smoke near a gas pump.” Emma grabs the cigarette from between her sister’s fingers and throws it on the ground before crushing it with the sole of her sandal.

 Milah becomes bug-eyed at the gesture. “What the hell, Em?! That was my last cigarette!”

 Emma sighs and rolls her eyes. “So buy another pack.”

 The brunette’s eyebrows are furrowed together as she scolds Emma, arms flailing in the air. “Yeah, I would, except, now we might have to decide on whether to spend our money on food or rent, so how am I going to buy a pack of cigarettes?!”

 Emma eyes her sister warily, her brows crinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 Milah’s lashes are pressed together as she squints, flashing Emma her famous ‘ are you seriously kidding me right now?’ mien. “Well in case you forgot, sis, we received an eviction notice this morning, and we had to replace the engine of this old piece of crap!” Milah spats resentfully, gesturing towards Emma’s prized yellow bug to convey her point.

 “Hey, my car is not a piece of crap,” Emma argues defensively. She opens the driver's door, hearing the hinges squeak as Milah makes her way to the passenger’s side.

 “I just checked my bank account, and unless you have money I don't know about, or plan on seducing the landlord to get out of paying rent, then we’re completely screwed.”

 “Well, maybe if you hadn’t spent seventy-five dollars on the sandals you just had to have, then we’d have more money.” Emma is all for buying new shoes, but not if it meant they have to live on the streets because of it.

 Milah glowers at her. “They were half off. Besides, you know what they say—give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world. And we’re going to need a lot more than seventy-five dollars to catch up on rent. We're going to need some kind of miracle.”

 “Well, I asked for more hours at the bar, and you’ve picked up more too,” Emma reminds her.

 Milah shakes her head as they get in the car. “Still, we’re barely getting by. That engine set us way back,” she points out in frustration, buckling her seatbelt. “We need to make some money quick.”

 Emma nods in agreement, knowing her sister’s correct. “If only one of us could win the lottery or marry a rich man. I really don't want to spend the rest of my life eating ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Emma mutters, firing up the engine as she fastens her seatbelt. Lifting her eyes, she catches Milah’s big hazel ones gleaming at her, a slow, snide smile crawling across her lips. The hairline on Emma’s forehead rises as she arches a brow at her sister. “What?”

 “That’s a brilliant idea, Em.”

 Waving her head doubtfully, Emma looks ahead as she shifts the gear in drive and starts pulling away from the gas pump. “Eating ramen noodles for every meal? Not really. They're incredibly high in sodium, calories and saturated fat. And weren't you just cutting me down for munching on Slim Jims?”

 “Not that. I'm talking about marrying a rich man.”

 Emma snorts as she turns out of the parking lot, not believing what she just heard slip past Milah's lips. “That would kind of be difficult to do, considering neither one of us is even dating one.”

 Milah shifts in her seat anxiously, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Em, do you remember about two years ago… when we went to visit Mal and Lily for Christmas?”

 Emma thinks about that for a moment, unsure of what Milah is getting at. Mal had taken them in for a short while, after their adoptive mother died when they were seventeen years old. Milah and Emma aren't sisters by blood but they grew up in the foster system together and became inseparable when they were both adopted by a nice woman in Indiana. They had only been out of the system for a year when Ingrid was in a fatal car accident.

 Mal is the mother of Lily Page, who was Milah’s and Emma's classmate and friend, and took them in while they finished high school. When the sisters moved out, they got an apartment together in Boston. Milah had just turned twenty-two when they went back to visit Mal and Lily for the holidays. “Yeah, I remember. She taught us how to play poker. So?”

 “She did, but do you also remember how Mal spoke to us about the con and how we weren't supposed to tell anyone about it?”

 “The con?” Emma tries to recall, but really has no clue what Milah’s talking about.

 “Yeah. Mal told us how Lily's father left when he found out she was pregnant, so after that, she gave up on love. Said it was weakness, and only married her husbands for their money. When Lily turned twenty-one, she got her mother’s husband at that time to cheat on her. Then Mal divorced him and got a huge settlement out of it. The two of them took the money, and moved on to the next poor loser who fell into their trap. And they always used fake names so they'd never get caught.”

 “Yeah, okay I remember now.” Emma regards her sister with a cautious eye. “What's your point?”

 “Don't you see, Em? We could do the same. We could have Mal show us the con, and how to pull it off successfully.”

 Shaking her head, Emma quickly declines while biting back a laugh. “I am not doing that.”

 Milah shifts in her seat, her whole body facing Emma. “Just think—we’ll never have to be broke again. We can get a few good marks, take their money and move to Hawaii and buy our own bar on the beach or something. Come on, what do you say, Em? Let's do something bold . Something crazy .”

 “We do plenty of bold and crazy things,” Emma counters with a laugh.

 “Name one.”

 “What about the time we went skinny dipping in the sea with our former bosses?”

 Milah rolls her eyes. “You just proved my point. If that's the craziest thing we’ve ever done, I think it’s time we change that.”

 Emma stares at the road ahead of her, gnawing on her bottom lip. “But we’re not like Mal and Lily. What if we end up falling in love with one of the marks? I mean, do you really think we can pull this off?”

 “Sure, why not? Neither of us have ever been good at commitments anyways. But, we've been good at one-night stands and sex with no strings.”

 Emma has to admit, Milah’s correct on all counts, yet she still feels the urge to argue her reasons. “Well, yes, but those were only physical involvements and we always go to the guy’s place, making a dash before morning. Now you're talking about one of us going on romantic dates and getting a man to fall head over heels in love and make an actual commitment before ripping his heart in two?”

 “So? I can totally do that. I'll be the primary and you can get them to have an affair; that way you won't have to worry about the relationship part. All you have to do is look good, dress sexy and be your charming self, like when you pick up a guy at the bar. Only he’ll be married and rich instead of single and broke… and he’ll be my husband.”

 This is completely insane.

 Letting out a heavy sigh, Emma can't believe she is actually considering this plan. It seems so wrong to her on many, many levels. “I don't know…”

 Milah pulls one of Emma's hands from the steering wheel, encases it between her own and looks at her sister with pleading eyes, her left wrist revealing the tattoo of a raven's wings spread across the inside.

 “Please? Just consider it, that's all I'm asking.”

 Emma also has a tattoo on the inside of her left wrist, only it’s the wings of a white swan. They both got the tattoos using their fake i.d. cards, just after getting adopted by Ingrid at age sixteen. The wings symbolize their freedom from escaping the various foster homes, and they would never take it for granted. And yet, this little scheme they are contemplating would certainly take that freedom away if they ever got caught and landed in prison.

 Emma turns her head, briefly glancing at her sister, who is making a moue with her lips. “You're insane,” she titters, waving her head in bewilderment.

 Milah grins at her cheekily. “And you love me for it.”

 $*$*$

 May 5th, 2018—the outskirts of Storybrooke, ME

 Emma’s long blonde locks whip through the air, relieved to be free from the confinement of the red-haired wig as she tilts her head to the side and smiles at her sister, Milah. They’re just leaving the outskirts of Maine in their brand new flashy red Corvette Convertible with the top down, wearing designer sunglasses and silk dresses with thousand-dollar Giuseppe Zanotti shoes. And they have eighty thousand dollars to their name which will pay for their living expenses while they sink their claws into their next new mark.

 After Mal’s training, they'd started out small, tricking strangers at grocery stores by convincing them they’d forgotten their purses, or that their cupboards were bare and they needed to feed their starving children when they were using maxed-out cards so they’d be declined. The restaurant pranks were their most popular techniques; they’d plant a strand of hair or piece of glass in their food, or they’d discolor the chicken with red food dye to make it look raw in the middle and receive a free meal out of the charade. Or they’d sit at the bar wearing their sexiest dresses, luring men into buying them all the cocktails they could possibly stand before fleeing to the cab the men paid for when the sisters became too drunk to drive, leaving the poor guys all hot and bothered with no money in their pockets.

 The more cons they played out, the easier it became. Emma was always wary about it and her conscience often got in the way, but she slowly came around because she didn't want to let her sister down. Milah, however, was a natural. She had no problem lying and flirting with strange men to get her way, and always took the lead whenever they were working as a team. Soon enough, it was on to the big leagues.

 Their first real mark was a computer geek from MIT who worked at Google, was a momma’s boy, and had never cooked a meal in his whole goddamn life. The millionaire may have been smart, but luckily he wasn't clever enough to let his brain do all the thinking or let his mother talk some sense into him. Either that, or he was just that desperate when a gorgeous brunette, who was way out of his league, showed interest in him. They were married three months later when Emma kissed him so Milah could walk in and catch them. Emma cried that night for ruining the man’s life. Several more cons and broken hearts later, the consequences of their actions gradually had less of an impact on her due to Milah’s constant encouragement and incessant reminders that it’s better than sleeping on the cold, hard floor in a crowded homeless shelter or a cardboard box on the streets.

 “So how was the wedding?”

 Milah shrugs, a half-hearted smile curving her lips. “It was fine.”

 Even through the dark shades, Emma can tell something is wrong with her sister. She can always read her like a book. “You okay?”

 “Yeah, absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?”

 “I don't know, but I know when something's bothering you. We’re sisters remember?”

 Milah's smile grows as she slowly turns up the radio. “Of course, and you're also my best friend, Em,” she adds, speaking over the music as she leans over and kisses Emma's cheek. “It's just exhausting getting married and going through a divorce, that's all. And I kinda miss my blonde wig,” she says with a small laugh before briefly glancing down and admiring her feet. “But that's okay. Give a girl the right pair of shoes…”

 “And she can conquer the world,” Emma finishes enthusiastically.

 “I promise, sis… everything… is… fantastic.”

 The song Homewrecker by Marina and the Diamonds is playing as the music envelopes their ears. Milah throws her arms up in the air and Emma laughs, raising one hand while the other is still on the wheel. She grabs her sister's hand and they start singing loudly with the words of the song. Emma can't wait to get to their next destination. “Palm Beach, Florida, here we come!” Emma shouts at the top of her lungs.

 “Whoohoooooo!” Milah utters in excitement, both of the them floating on a cloud; nothing in the word could possibly bring them down.

 $*$*$

 Approximately two days and 1,529 miles later—Palm Beach, FL

 “What about him?”

 Emma dismisses the question with a soft shake of her head, grimacing at the idea of having to kiss the old man leaving his huge mansion—he looks as though he’s on the brink of death. She's already had her fill of the previous man with a cane—Milah’s latest ex-husband. “I don't think so,” Emma grumbles, proceeding to cruise through the wealthy neighborhood. The avenue is stretching wide and flat in front of them, a perfectly-aligned row of palm trees on either side as the sunlight scatters through the gaps. They’ve been on the road for twenty-four hours over the span of two days, and regretted the decision of not traveling by plane (Emma is afraid of flying), so it’s a relief to finally reach their destination. And as tired as they are, they’re bound and determined to find their next mark.

 Emma’s eyes are spanning over the nearby houses when she spots a modestly attractive man stepping out of his Mercedes Benz. He appears to be in his mid-thirties, has curly brown hair and is wearing an Armani suit. Perhaps a CEO of a large corporation? “What about him? He's kind of cute.” Just as Emma asks, another man, this one with dark hair who is equally as attractive and young, steps out of the house greeting the other with a hug. “Brothers maybe? That could be fun.”

 Emma receives an eye roll as she stops at a red light.

 “We don't play more than one guy at a time, I can only marry one, Em. And competition creates complications, especially between brothers.”

 Despite her words, Emma continues to observe them as Milah looks ahead, but to the blonde’s dismay, the two men start kissing—making out to be more precise. “Ummm… I take that back… not brothers… and you're definitely not their type.”

 “What do you mean I'm not their type?” Milah asks, clearly offended as she tilts her head to see what Emma is looking at. “Oh… I don't do gay guys either.”

 “Maybe they're bi? You could have a ménage à trois,” Emma teases with a laugh as the light turns green and she gently steps on the gas.

 “No thanks,” Milah replies, her words laced with distaste. “Get real, Em. Maybe you're into that, but I'm not.”

 Emma shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

 Half an hour later, they arrive at the condo they're staying in for the next two or three months, depending on how long it takes Milah to get the next man to marry her. The last one took two, but that was a new record for her. And he was only worth six hundred thousand. His last name was Gold, but he sure as hell wasn't made of it.

 They enter their room, blown away by the accommodations as they take a tour of the place. The beachfront apartment contains a large living space with a tan leather sectional, a matching loveseat and a large flat screen TV in the lounge area. There’s a separate laundry room in the apartment, and the kitchen is equipped with granite countertops and all of the stainless steel appliances they could possibly need.

 The glass patio doors afford a spectacular view of the ocean, and opens to a balcony scattered with outdoor dining furniture and a sunbed.

 In each of the two bedrooms, there’s a full patio window and a four-poster queen size bed adorned with a mountain of frilly pillows and silk drapes surrounding the bed. The en-suite bathroom that joins the two bedrooms contains a jacuzzi tub and shower encased in glass doors.

 Emma and Milah are squealing in delight, completely in awe as they soak everything in. Between all of the crowded foster homes and the studio apartments they lived in which were ran by slumlords, this is by far the nicest place they've ever stayed in.

 After getting settled and unpacking some of their things, Milah decides to test out the bathtub while Emma goes for a walk. It’s still early in the evening and she’s utterly exhausted, but she craves some time on the beach before retiring to her bed. The ocean always calms her.

 $*$*$

 Hook Jones is in jeopardy of losing his world number one ranking this week at the Players Championship in Ponte Verde, Florida. According to the scenarios presented by Twitter user @VC606, there are four players who could overtake Jones this week.–thebiglead.com

 The sun is cresting the horizon, leaving an array of colors across the sky as Killian moors his vessel to the port. He normally likes to start the mornings on his yacht whenever he can catch a break, but watching the sunset is just as calming. It allows him to reflect and plan his game before the tour. Some days are a zoo, with the cameras and crowds following him around on the green; the feeling of being closed in is the worst part about being a golfer. Being on the sea is his escape.

 It’s really quite ironic because ever since he was a child, he's been surrounded by people, even after he lost his family. He’s traveled around the world, and when he’s in Palm Beach he spends a lot of time with the children, who are his biggest fans. As much as he enjoys being around them, he’s always craving to have someone with him while he’s on the tour—someone by his side… someone along for the ride.

 With his vessel securely anchored in place, Killian makes his way from the marina and passes a few patrons, offering a courteous smile and a small wave. Most of them are familiar to him, and some are obviously here on vacation.

 Normally, tourists wear shorts when it’s sixty-eight degrees and end up looking like lobsters after spending four hours in the sun. Locals, on the other hand, wear winter jackets when it’s a touch below seventy degrees and always have deep brown tans. Killian can always distinguish a local from a tourist, not only by the hue of their tan, or lack thereof, and the way they dress, but also by the excitement buzzing in their eyes. Most of them spend their days snapping photos, drinking in the view and thinking of ways to move here, while the residents of Palm Beach spend their lives trying to find a way out.

 Nearing the beach, Killian feels the cool breeze touching his skin and blowing through his hair. This is one of cooler evenings in May, although he’s been accustomed to much more frigid temperatures from all of his traveling.

 His mind is frazzled with thoughts of the new foundation he had spent many years dreaming up and planning, the charity event to kick it off and the Players championship, where he is hoping to maintain his number one ranking. With everything going on, he has to be mentally prepared for the game, but he’s not worried. He’s always hungry for more wins, no matter how many he already has in the bag. Golf is his true love, and the game is all about focus and preparation.

 However, nothing could've prepared him for the vision currently demanding all of his focus when his eyes fall upon a beautiful woman. Well, an angel to be more precise, with skin fair and pure, golden hair shimmering, even in the dim light of the evening air.

 Bloody hell, she is breathtaking.

 She’s walking barefoot along the beach, wearing a white layered mini skirt, a beige sweater and a wide-brimmed sun hat, her long golden hair flowing in soft waves. Her gorgeous legs go on for days, she has high cheekbones and glossy pink lips, and her emerald green eyes are lit up like a firefly in the night. Her creamy skin looks like porcelain, and a calm expression is settled over the beautiful features of her face as she gazes across the ocean.

 She is definitely not from around here. Even if not for all of the evident signs, he would remember seeing a lass like her.