#hidden blessing

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Things were equally solemn in the convent—and the fairies didn’t even know about the curse yet. The Blue Fairy was laid out in a coffin at the altar, or whatever religious centerpiece it was, with other fairies gathered around in mourning. 

Tink charged ahead. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need your help.”

“With what?” one of the fairies asked. 

Neal quickly said, “The Black Fairy's wand is here. We need it.”

The fairy began to step back. “We can never…”

“Yeah, yeah. It's a terrible thing,” Tink interrupted. “But what's coming is worse. Where is it?”

Before the fairy could answer, a pounding noise sounded outside, somewhere above them. All eyes darted up to windows at the roofline, where something dark—and familiar—was flying around. 

“What the hell was that?” David yelped. 

“Pan's shadow,” Killian answered, knowingly. That—that was the danger he’d been worried about, especially once it became apparent that the Shadow was trying to get in. 

“What does it want?” another fairy wondered. 

But Killian knew. “The wand.” It wasn’t a stretch to believe the Shadow had overheard their conversation back in the cemetery—and was here to foil their plans. 

One of the stained glass windows was partly open; the Shadow effortlessly slipped in. David shouted for everyone to run; the fairies all but disappeared, but the four of them stayed in the sanctuary, hiding behind the pews. (He knew nothing of this realm’s religions but some things apparently transcended worlds, including the setup of worship spaces. He’d never been much for organized religion, but if they escaped this unscathed, he’d throw up some prayers to the gods in thanks.)

“So all we have to do is light the candle, right? That's how you trapped it in Neverland?” David panted. 

“Yeah,” Neal confirmed. “This time I say we get rid of it for good.” 

Killian agreed. “I'll draw its ire.”

He began to move when Tink put her hand on his arm. “You sure you want to do this?” The others were looking at him concernedly as well. 

His hand rested on his belly; yes, logically, he shouldn’t be throwing himself into the line of fire like so. But he also knew—based on past experience—that the odds of the Shadow being able to hurt him were minimal compared to the others, and there was no way he could sit idly by and do nothing to help. “If it's the only way to prevent this bloody curse from obliterating us all, then it's a risk I'm willing to take.”

Tink squeezed his arm and smiled. “You’ve come a long way from only risking your life for love or revenge.”

He blushed a bit. “This is still within those categories,” he replied, nodding towards his stomach—but they both knew it wasn’t just the babe. 

The Shadow had been circling overhead, but was darting lower; it was now or never. 

“Hey!” he shouted, slipping out from the benches into the aisle. Not his most original quip, but it worked—the Shadow’s focus was on him, and it dove. 

Killian crouched and easily evaded it; hopefully, he could keep that up. “That the best you got?” he taunted; attacking its pride was a sure fire way to keep it close enough to capture. 

However, it was indeed not its best; on its next swoop, it managed to knock Killian off his feet, sending him sliding across the floor. He at least managed to fall on his side and curl up, protecting the babe from impact. 

Hands were on his shoulders almost immediately. “You alright?” David asked, brow furrowed in assessment, helping him back to the benches. 

“I think so,” he breathed; the wind had been knocked out of him a bit but the baby seemed to me kicking away as consistently as ever. 

In that time, the Shadow had flown back up to the eaves, far out of reach. 

“Too bad I can't fly up there,” Neal joked—but then realized: “Tink.”

It took some encouragement, but they managed to convince her that she could do it—they all had faith in her; she just needed to have it in herself. 

He watched with pride as she was able to activate her vial of pixie dust and float up. It took even less effort for her to light the flame in the coconut, easily trapping the Shadow. He felt no sympathy as the creature, if it could be called that, writhed as it was sucked into the flame. 

He only felt relief at the small hiss of a scream when Tink tossed it in an open brazier back on the ground. 

“Look who's still a fairy,” he teased, sauntering towards her, but his genuine grin probably belied the sarcasm. 

“Look who's still a pirate,” she tossed back. “You all right?”

“Aye; we’re fine.”

“Good. I wish you had a bit more self-preservation, you know? If not just for your kid, then for Emma, too,” she added on a whisper.

Before he could comment either way, the apparently resurrected Blue Fairy interrupted them—not just to welcome Tink back into the folds of fairy-dom, but also to give them the Black Fairy’s wand. “Go—save us all,” she commanded, somewhat melodramatically, but the situation was that dire. Neal took the wand and they wasted no further time. 

Back at the pawn shop, everyone else was waiting; the wand was all they needed. Emma looked tense, understandably; he hoped his nod was an encouraging one (and hoped they’d get time at some point here for more communication than glances and gestures). 

Later, though; now, Gold was performing the spell, and then they had to find Henry. 

After confirmation—so much as they could tell—that it worked, they all headed out into town to track down Henry, led by Granny and her keen sense of smell. But the lad ended up finding them first, sprinting out of the library, curse in hand.

It was hard not to get a little emotional at the reunion with Henry and his mothers (Killian’s own heightened hormones notwithstanding), but that quickly gave way to confusion when, upon being handed the curse scroll from the boy, Regina collapsed on the pavement accompanied by a flash of purple light.

She recovered, but when asked what happened, only cryptically said that she “saw what needed to be done.” He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Mom, are you going to be okay?” Henry asked, worried.

Regina placed her hand under Henry's chin. “The important thing is you will be.” That didn’t fully assuage Killian’s concern, though it was definitely important. His hand drifted to his waist, protecting his babe (and drawing comfort from them, too—this whole thing wasn’t done yet).

“No, he won’t actually.” They all turned at the unwelcome voice—Pan, somehow free, and suddenly holding the scroll in his hand.

“He has the—!” Killian started to say, but was frozen in place before he could finish his warning; even the babe within him had stopped moving, which was even more unnerving. 

“Curse?” Pan finished, smirking. “That I do.”

He started to monologue, debating which of his captives he would murder first; honestly, it was a bit cliche, but Killian knew well what the demon child was capable of.

Pan had just rounded on Belle and Neal when Gold appeared behind him; took him long enough (though it wasn’t a stretch to think Pan had incapacitated him, given that Pan himself should have still been imprisoned). 

Pan teased his son. "You're here to protect your loved ones, eh?”

“I'm not gonna let you touch either one of them.” If Killian weren’t frozen, he would have arched an eyebrow, impressed; it only took the Crocodile two centuries to learn how to stand up for his family, but better late than never.

Should have expected it would be in dramatic fashion, too. After some repartee, Gold’s shadow appeared—carrying the dagger. Which he used to kill both Pan…and himself.

Regardless of their broken history, this was not the end he expected for the Dark One. Perhaps in a normal situation, he wouldn’t feel the rush of emotion he did now; but as it was, he felt tears well in his eyes and a surge of oddly-placed pride. 

That also meant they were free from Pan’s spell, with the demon’s demise; that brought the strongest sense of relief of all. All the decades of serving that arse were permanently done, thank the gods.

But seeing Belle collapse on the ground in tears brought any elation back to the ground; he slowly moved behind her and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder, even though they also had a rocky past. To his surprise, she reached up and squeezed his hand, but he stepped aside when Neal came forward to pull her into an embrace. Over his would-be stepmother’s shoulder, Neal found Killian’s gaze; they didn’t even exchange a nod, but a look of understanding and sympathy was obvious.

Others gathered around the two of them to offer their condolences, including Emma, but Regina was drawn to the fallen scroll once more. And then all eyes were on her.

“My father did what he had to do. He saved us,” Neal said, voice thick. “Regina, don't let him die for nothing.” His plea seemed to fall on deaf ears, though. “Regina?”

“What?” she asked, looking up from the scroll and blinking.

“We're here for a reason, love. Pan,” Killian reminded her.

“He’s dead,” she said quickly.

“His curse remains,” he countered. “Can you stop it, or shall we all start preparing our souls? 'Cause mine is gonna take some time,” he added, hoping a moment of levity might help.

On cue, one of the dwarves came up screaming about the curse’s imminent arrival.

“We can still stop it, right?” David asked, ever hopeful; Regina confirmed it, but still seemed reluctant.

“W-what's the price?” Emma was clearly distraught; he wanted to hold her, assure her it would be fine, but now was not the time. “Gold said there is a price. What is our price?”

Regina turned to face the group. “It's not our price. It's mine. I have to say goodbye to the thing I love most.”

They all knew who that meant: Henry.

The lad in question moved closer to his mothers, confusion and worry on his face. 

“I can never see him again,” Regina went on. “I have no choice.” It made sense, but gods was it cruel. Killian barely even knew the little life within him yet already couldn’t imagine being parted from them like so; but with a hold you’ve held, raised, loved? He couldn’t imagine. 

“I have to undo what I started,” she added sadly. 

“The curse that brought us to Storybrooke?” Snow realized, on a gasp. 

“That created Storybrooke,” Regina emphasized. “It doesn't belong here, and neither do any of us.”

Just when he was starting to find a reason to stay; he cast a brief glance at Emma, but then focused on the pavement. He had a bad feeling in his gut where this was going. 

“Breaking the curse destroys the town,” David said, breathlessly—and throwing half a dirty look at Killian; he deserved it though, given his hand in the town’s first near-destruction. 

But what Regina said next was worse. 

“It will wipe it out of existence as though it were never here. And everyone will go back to where they are from. Prevented from ever returning.”

That part—that would make this awfully difficult. But…when she said “from,” did she mean…?

“We'll go back to the Enchanted Forest?” Emma seemed to be putting the pieces together at the same time. 

“All of us,” Regina nodded, “Except Henry. He will stay here because... he was born here.”

“Alone?” Emma’s voice cracked.

No—that…couldn’t be; it was too awful. Impending parenthood was absolutely making Killian a sap, but he knew a thing or two about being abandoned, and few things were more awful; Henry didn’t deserve that, especially after what he’d just been through—especially when both his parents knew what it was like too. 

He could see remnants of the little lost girl Emma had once been starting to show on her face, and longed to clear them away somehow—assure her it’d be alright. He was too far away though, so he settled with reaching out to squeeze Neal’s shoulder, knowing he was likely having similar flashbacks. 

“No,” Regina countered, thankfully. “You will take him. Because you're the Savior. And you were created to break the curse. And once again, you can escape it.”

Emma’s eyes weren’t the only ones starting to brim with tears, but hers were the ones he was focused on. “I-I don't want to. We'll both go back with everyone.”

“That's not an option,” Regina said, equally emotional. “I can't be with him. If I don't pay the price, none of this will work.”

Ominously, thunder sounded in the distance, indicating the curse’s proximity. They were running out of time. He loathed to say it, but Regina was right: Emma had to go.

Heartbreakingly, her mother agreed.

“I just found you,” Emma protested, every inch the lost girl.

“And now it's time for you to leave us again,” Snow told her, obviously working hard to hold it together. “For your best chance. For his.”

She continued to fight it—to hypothesize a way to win—but he could feel it in the wind: they had to act fast, and this was the only way to not leave Henry by himself. But if they didn’t move quickly, they’d all get wrapped up in whatever sick plan Pan enacted before his death.

Emma looked across the crowd and found his eyes. No doubt she saw sadness in them. But he swallowed and gave her what he hoped was a confident, encouraging nod. Selfishly, he wished she could go with all of them, but she’d never be able to live with herself if she had to leave Henry behind—nor would he expect her to.

She pursed her lips and gave a tiny nod in response. “Okay,” she finally said, albeit reluctantly.

Killian directed the group to the farthest town line—the spot that gave them the most time before the curse overtook them. All too soon, everyone was gathered around Emma’s yellow vehicle in a series of tearful goodbyes that were wreaking havoc on his heightened emotions. 

Henry clung to Regina while Emma bade farewell to her parents and Neal, then turned to face him.

“That's quite a vessel you captain there, Swan,” he teased, trying to lighten the moment a bit for both their sakes. She smiled—something he vowed to sear into his memory. But then he couldn’t hold back anymore—he had to be sincere. “There's not a day that won't go by that I won't think of you,” he added, perhaps a bit dramatically but it was the honest truth.

“Good,” Emma said—then, to his shock, she quickly gripped his lapels and placed an insistent kiss on his lips. 

He didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, knowing it would likely be the last. 

It was all too brief, but she stayed in his space one more moment. “Take care of yourself, okay? And good luck.”

“You too,” he replied, voice suddenly thick with emotion—but who could blame him?

He stepped aside and pulled himself together as they made the final preparations to leave; he could see the sky darkening as the curse approached. He heard something about them losing their memories—or getting new ones from Regina—something like that, which was probably a blessing but sounded cruel in the moment. They wouldn't remember them—all the things that had happened in the last months, especially Emma finding her family. But it was probably for the best.

Snow was giving Emma one last embrace goodbye and placing a kiss on her forehead when he turned back around. He placed his hand, as he did so often, on his belly, praying to the gods that they would never be faced with such a prospect.

Then Emma and Henry were in her car and it was roaring to life, just as Regina enacted the counter curse.

As the storm clouds rolled over him, he watched Emma drive over the town line—into safety. 

What lay ahead for both of them was unknown, but they at least had their children; what else did they need?

—--------------------------------------

One year later

Killian knew he was in the right spot—portals were generally accurate—but as he stood outside the door, he was nervous. A lot had changed in his world in the past year; he had to assume the same could be said here. 

But he was on a mission. So he swallowed his nerves and knocked. 

He could hear voices inside—they were definitely there; but there was no answer, so he knocked again, urgently. 

Finally, he heard footsteps approach. The door swung open, and there she was: Emma, in all her glory, blonde hair hanging loose around her face. She looked good. 

He was so relieved; he grinned and stepped forward. “Swan. At last—”

But she stopped him from moving any farther forward with a hand on his chest. Her brow furrowed and she cut him off. “Woah, do I know you?”

Oh, right—in his eagerness, he’d nearly forgotten about the spell that replaced their memories. Good to know it had held. 

“Look, I need your help,” he charged on, though. “Something's happened. Something terrible. Your family is in trouble.”

“My family's right here,” she countered. “Who are you?”

“An old friend,” was the best he could come up with; he was starting to feel desperate. “Look, I know you can't remember me, but... I can make you.”

Much like their parting, but with the roles reversed, he did step into her space—and found her lips, thinking fervently of all the feelings he’d been holding onto for her over the past year. 

He really should have expected the subsequent knee in his groin, though; thank goodness he wasn’t still feeling (too) tender down there. 

“The hell are you doing?” she demanded, shoving him back to the opposite wall. 

He groaned and tried to catch his breath. “A long-shot,” he admitted. “I had to try. I was… hoping you felt as I did.” Which sounded ridiculous as soon as he said it; how could she feel anything when she clearly didn’t remember him?

“What you'll feel is the handcuffs when I call the cops.” Well, that was in-character. 

But he didn’t come here to fail. “Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me. You have to remem—”

But the door slammed in his face. 

Bloody hell; that hadn’t gone to plan. But he was a captain for a reason; he’d just have to rely on his backup. 

He'd do whatever it took—he’d promised. So many people were relying on him, but more so on Emma. It wasn’t his intention to drag her back into that part of her life, but he’d seen her with her parents before they left—she deserved to be reunited with them. 

And he wouldn’t be reunited with his own child until he did. 

—————————————

thanks for reading! tagging (if any of you are still interested)

@cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @justsomewhump @teamhook

Neal at least chuckled at that, and offered his glass in cheers. Killian obliged, but didn’t add on what he was really thinking: even if he wasn’t actively going to seek Emma out, he had no plans on going anywhere or leaving her presence. His priorities might lay elsewhere, but he was in this for the long haul; given the previous demise of Emma and Bae’s relationship, he wasn’t optimistic about a reunion.

But that was for the future. At present, he looked up to check the time on the clock—and cursed. “Damn; I’ve got to get to an appointment.”

“What, like a doctor appointment?” 

“Yeah; is that odd?” He’d gone to Doc’s office earlier to enquire if he had any availability to see Killian and was told to come back later—not long from now.

“You just don’t strike me as the type to seek out professionals.”

“No, not usually, but it’s not for me—it’s for this one,” he said, nodding at his belly. “Can’t be too careful when Neverland is involved.”

Neal winced. “Yeah, good plan. Hope it goes well, then,” he said, surprisingly sincere. 

“Thanks,” Killian replied as he hopped off the stool and threw some gold on the counter. “Until later.”

He’d hardly gotten outside Granny’s front gate and down the sidewalk when a familiar voice was calling for him. 

“Hook!” Emma shouted, then jogged to keep up when he paused. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere exciting,” he answered. “Just the obstetrician.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, okay, then; just wanted to make sure you weren’t skipping town or anything.”

“What, afraid I’d leave without saying goodbye?” He felt slightly guilty for flirting after the conversation he’d just had with Bae, but he couldn’t help it if Emma was the one seeking him out. “Don’t worry—I would never.”

“You better not,” she said, and held his gaze. She wasn’t saying it verbally, but he understood the subtext clearly: she wanted him to stay—here, near her. And that meant more than he could express.

Her eyes darted to his lips, despite there being several feet between them; gods how he wanted to follow that train of thought, but perhaps making out in front of the diner where her ex (and the rest of her family) still sat wasn’t the greatest idea, especially since he still had somewhere to be.  

“Right, well, I don’t want to be late,” he finally said to break the silence and took a step in the direction of the doctor’s office, if only to break the tension between them. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Uh, wait—do you want some company? At your appointment?”

He blinked; now he was truly surprised. “Why would you want to go to that?” he blurted out. 

“I mean, most people usually have someone with them at those—their partner, y’know, or a friend.”

Unable to resist the setup, he asked, “And which do you consider yourself, Swan?”

The subsequent eye roll was expected, but her sincerity wasn’t. “Look, I had to go through all of that with Henry on my own, and I always wished I had someone there with me. So, if you want someone, I’ll gladly go with you.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but he simply didn’t have one. But the way he was suddenly holding back tears probably said enough. “I, uh,” he stammered. “I’d like that, if—if you’re sure.”

She gave him a small smile, then walked forward. “Well, come on; we don’t wanna be late.”

He watched her walk past him, still in awe, but finally came back to his senses when she yelled at him to hurry up. 

The entire concept of the “waiting room” at the doctor’s office was foreign to him, and frankly seemed unnecessary; it just gave him more time to worry about what the doctor might find. It was all he could do not to bounce his leg nervously as he sat in an uncomfortable chair next to Emma, who seemed to be reading a periodical.

But when he glanced over at her, her eyes were anything but focused on the pages. “Not a fan of the physician, eh?” he said, trying to refocus his nervous energy elsewhere.

She blinked and looked up at him, then chuckled half-heartedly. “No, it’s not that—although, yes,” she conceded. “I’m just worried about Henry.”

That, he understood. “He’s been through something traumatic; it likely takes some time to settle after that.”

She huffed a bit. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but it’s not that. There’s something else…off, I guess.” Then she shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just imagining it.”

“Or maybe you’re not,” he countered. “Your instincts tend to be fairly solid, Swan; don’t ignore them if you think something is truly wrong.”

“Thanks,” she answered, giving him a small smile in return. “I just don’t know what it could be.”

“Perhaps—” he started, trying to help her brainstorm, but then his name was called out to go back to the exam room. Alas; they’d have to continue that train of thought later.

Having someone with him in the exam room was a completely different experience than his last couple of visits, and definitely for the better. If Doc was surprised by the change, he didn’t comment on it, and even though Emma politely averted her gaze during certain parts of the checkup, she was able to help answer some questions—like just how long they’d been in Neverland. 

“Just shy of three weeks,” she was answered confidently. “And you were at 16 when we left, right?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, astonished she remembered. “But I think Pan may have accelerated it a bit, at one point.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” she hissed, but still sat next to him during the sonogram; she’d already seen his belly at the lagoon, so he didn’t mind that exposure, but he wondered if she might get weirded out seeing the image of his insides. 

But then Doc said “huh” while he was scanning, and Killians heart stuttered. 

“What?”

“I can’t—find—“ Doc said while continuing to move the probe around. 

Killians breath hitched as he stared at the screen, waiting for something to appear. The babe couldn’t be gone—he could feel them still—no, please, no—

Then he jumped a mile when something touched his hand; he turned his head to see Emma slipping her hand around his and giving an encouraging smile. He couldn’t return it, but he took hold of hers and squeezed. 

“There they are!” His eyes darted back to the screen and he sighed; there it was—his babe. “They were hiding on us!” Doc said, chuckling, “but everything is looking good.”

What Pan said he’d done was accurate—he was around 18 weeks now—but they were there and they were healthy and that was all that mattered. 

He felt somewhat drained as he and Emma left the office, but ultimately relieved. “Thank you for coming, Emma; I’m...I can’t say how much it means that you were there,” he told her outside the office. 

“Like I said—no one should have to do that alone,” she said. “And honestly, it’s the least I can do. I’m glad I was there, too.”

“Would, uh,” he started, not sure how to ask the question he wanted to ask. “Do you want to…” How on earth did one ask the object of their affections to join them at the rest of their appointments to track the growth of the child they were having as a product of his relationship with said love interest’s would-be-mother-in-law?

“I will gladly go to the rest of them, if you want me there,” she said, smiling. 

Thank gods she figured it out. “Yeah, I would. Please.”

She just laughed at him and started to lead the way back into town. They were silent, but it was a comfortable quiet—although he did keep stealing glances her way, something she was apparently doing as well because they broke into a fit of juvenile giggles when they caught the other’s eye. 

The turnoff came to head to the marina, and sleep was calling his name again. “I’m afraid this is where we part,” he said. “Seriously—thank you.”

She waved it off. “It was my pleasure. But now that I’ve seen that kid, I’m gonna be making sure you’re taking care of them.”

“With my life.”

“That’s what worries me,” she teased, albeit with a serious edge. “Especially after Dark Hollow. Take care of yourself, too.”

“You have my word.” (She could have whatever of his words she wanted, if he was being honest.)

“Well, I’d like to make sure you are. Like, tomorrow, around lunch time, at Granny’s.”

“Why, Swan, are you asking me on a date?”

“No. I’m making sure you get decent food. Especially now that I know you’ve been craving grilled cheese.”

She had him there. “Alright, I will see you then. And maybe we can continue the earlier conversation, about Henry?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “See you then,” she farewelled with a grin. 

He started to walk away, but a crazy idea came over him. “Wait, Emma,” he called out, then jogged over to her as he fished out the envelope Doc had given him from his jacket. “Do, ah, do you want one?” he offered, holding it out to her. 

Now was her turn to be speechless; she blinked and stared at it in awe for a second. “An ultrasound picture? You’re asking if I want one?”

“Aye.”

She stared in shock for another moment, until a smile that was usually reserved for Henry took over. “Sure.”

He let her pick which of the few she wanted; she chose one with the baby’s fist extended. “Looks like they want to party,” she giggled. 

“Well, they’re all pirate,” he agreed, grinning. 

They parted for real then, with a promise to meet the next day. Apologies to Neal, but he couldn’t deny Emma anything. 

(He didn’t see it, but when Emma got in her Bug, she smiled at the sonogram, even giving it a little fist bump. “You’re gonna have a great daddy, kiddo,” she told it, “and I hope I’m a part of your life, too.”)

—-------------------------------------------

The next day, right around the time Emma had requested his presence, he slipped in the back door at Granny’s to meet her in the diner. But before he got that far, he ran into someone else—almost literally. “Oof—sorry; my apologies, Lady Bell,” he said, steadying her with his hand and hook. 

The fairy didn’t seem too bothered, though. “I’m alright; are you?”

“I’m fine, love,” he assured her. “Just need to pay more attention to what’s in front of me, apparently.”

“Daydreaming, huh?” she assessed, crossing her arms and smirking. “About the little one…or about Emma?”

How was she always able to read him so well? Was that a fairy thing? “Bit of both, I suppose,” he acknowledged, and told her about the appointment yesterday—both Emma’s presence at it, and the reassuring news he received. 

“That’s fantastic!” Tink gushed. “So do you think you’ll stay on the ship, or try to find some place to stay in town?”

The vision of Emma’s family’s flat swam into his mind; the Jolly Roger had long been his home, but he had to admit it wasn’t always the safest (or warmest) place. Perhaps he did need to find a more permanent mooring? (Maybe even in proximity to Emma’s home?) “I suppose I should start looking—”

He was interrupted by a most blood-curdling scream coming from outside. Bloody hell—they’d hardly been back a day; were crises this common here? “Then again, maybe not,” he quipped, and they quickly ran outside to see what was happening. 

Emma and her father were getting out of the prince’s truck (who, he had heard, was successfully cured of the dreamshade; Gold had held to his word, incredibly) as he and Tink emerged from the diner. 

“The hell was that?” she exclaimed as she walked over; he didn’t miss her glance between them, a curious look on her face, but hopefully she noticed the subtle shake of his head. 

“I have the same question,” he did add, though. 

The screaming occurred again, only louder.

“There,” David shouted, pointing in the direction of the sound, and took off running; the rest of them immediately followed (even though Killian had a feeling that exertion on an empty stomach was not going to be great for his nausea).

The sight that followed certainly didn’t help: near the steps of the convent, the mother superior was making a mad dash to get away from Pan’s Shadow. She nearly got inside, but the Shadow got there first—and wasted no time in tearing away her own shadow. 

Immediately, the nun collapsed on the sidewalk. David knelt down, looking for a pulse, but— “She's gone,” he said, aghast. (Killian began searching for the nearest bush to retch into; Doc said the nausea should be ending soon, but apparently not yet.)

“Why would the Shadow kill her?” Tink wondered aloud for all of them. 

“No idea, love,” he answered. “But I do know the Shadow only takes orders from one person.” That fact was also causing the twist in his gut. 

Emma found his eyes; her own were wide in shock. “Pan,” she said, confidently and horrified. 

While he was busy losing what little remained of his breakfast in the shrubbery, the rest of their little band arrived, no doubt also noticing the ruckus. Regina was understandably confused as to how the shadow could have broken free; Henry looked downright terrified. Neal was at least being pragmatic.

“Look, let's go back to the ship and get the candle. If it strikes again, we need to be able to capture it,” he said authoritatively, then turned to Killian. “Where’d you stash it?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, and threw an apologetic look at Emma as he left; he didn’t dare mention their abandoned date in front of Neal.

Tink tagged along as well. “Didn’t we just do all this?” she complained.

“From what I’ve gathered, Storybrooke is just…like this,” he supplied.

“Sounds exhausting. Are you sure about staying, then?”

“Do you know of anywhere better?” he quipped back.

“You’re staying?” Neal asked as they approached the marina.

“Aye; is that so surprising?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Neal was pouting. “I just figured it’d be back to the high seas.”

“With an infant on the way?” Tink interjected. “Are you daft?”

“I mean, houseboats are a thing,” he said quietly, but it was clear he wasn’t enthused by that news. Ah well—that was his issue to deal with, not Killian’s. Just because he wasn’t going to actively pursue Emma didn’t mean he was going to stop talking to her altogether. (And it really wasn’t his fault if that fact alone was threatening to Neal.)

It was both a comfort and a worry that the previously dark sail was back to its normal crisp white. All the more reason to track the shadow down again. 

“I know where the coconut is below deck; cover for me?” Tink asked. They obviously obliged. 

Both paced the deck, keeping an awkwardly safe distance between them. Killian took a moment to stop at the dockside railing, scanning both the sky and the skyline. 

As much as she’d been teasing, Tink’s comment was lingering. Did he truly want to settle down and raise a child in a place that seemed to attract danger?

Or did he want to fight to make it a safe place not just for his babe, but for everyone else here?

“When’d you do this?” Neal’s voice pulled him from his meditation; he stood on the quarterdeck, running his fingers along the wood behind the helm. 

Killian moved closer, ascending the steps. Neal was tracing the well-worn indentation behind the wheel—particularly, the lines he’d angrily dashed through the port and starboard symbols he drew for Bae all those years ago. 

“Right after the Lost Boys took you,” he said solemnly. 

“Trying to erase what you did?” There was an edge of venom in his voice. 

“Trying to erase my own hope,” he confessed. “Nothing excuses what I did—you suffered the most from my brash action—but I had been sincere in my desire to keep you here. I was angry at myself for destroying it; thus…” He waved his hook over the carvings. 

“I know,” Neal said, tracing the P. “I probably would have calmed down eventually, you know; I was an irrational teenager,” he chuckled. “But you were the adult.”

“Aye; right on all counts.”

“At least you get a second chance now. Don’t mess it up.”

“I don’t intend to.”

A look of understanding passed between them, despite the tension just a bit ago, and they nodded at each other. 

A moment later, Tink emerged with the coconut, just as Neal’s talking device went off. (Perhaps Killian needed to get his hands on one of those? They seemed to be rather useful.)

“Okay; we’ll be right there,” Neal said, then pocketed the object. “Everyone’s meeting at Regina’s vault. We good to go?”

“I certainly am,” Tink said, raising the coconut. 

“Aye; let’s get this over with once and for all,” Killian agreed, and they set back off across town. (He’d read that continued activity was good for the baby; with the number of times he’d traversed the town, they were sure to be in good health.)

His blood nearly froze in his veins, though—despite the exertion—once they reached the cemetery. He expected to see the usual band of heroes, and the Crocodile, but—what the bloody hell was Pan doing there?

And, even worse—why was Neal running towards him?

Killian’s hand instinctively drifted to his sword, convinced they were running headlong into a trap.

“Is it really you?” he heard Neal say from afar.

“Dad,” Pan said—though, it evidently was not the demon child. Killian looked towards Emma, hoping she could read the look of confusion that was surely on his face. Her mouth was a thin line but she nodded; they were good enough at nonverbal communication at this point that he could tell: somehow, Pan and Henry had switched bodies. 

(He could wait until later to congratulate her on knowing something was off; but first, they had to get through this.)

David asked if they’d found the Shadow; they showed him the empty coconut in response. The fact that it was still on the loose—paired with the realization that Regina’s vault was magically locked, with both her and Pan-as-Henry inside—was more than his uneasy stomach could take, and he had to step aside to retch again, though little came up.

As he was hunched over behind a random headstone, he felt a caress on his back; Emma gave him a consolatory rub, before seeking her own solitude further away (though her parents were quick to follow).

Everyone’s nerves were palpable as they waited for the Dark One to gain entrance to the vault—then even more on edge once he got through and headed in, with Emma and her parents in tow. He tried to give her an encouraging nod when she looked back over her shoulder at him before descending, but doubted it was convincing.

He paced; Tink perched on a stone; and Neal looked after Henry-as-Pan while they waited for news.

Finally, the others returned, Regina in tow, with the worst news possible:

Pan had escaped—and he’d taken the Dark Curse with him.

Fear like he hadn’t known yet immediately ran through Killian’s body, and his hand rushed to cover the spot where he could feel his babe’s equally nervous wiggles. For the first time, he was genuinely frightened they might fail. Gods above, what was happening?

—------------------------------------

“I know,” she said, though she didn’t sound confident. “I’m just not the most optimistic person by nature.”

“Then it’s a good thing your parents have enough of that to spare, eh?” he joked. “As does Baelfire.”

She’d been smirking, but it fell at the mention of her former lover. “He might have too much,” she complained.

“I take it you two didn’t end on good terms?”

She shifted uncomfortably; now it was his turn to squeeze her hand in encouragement. He certainly didn’t expect her to reveal anything she didn’t want to, but he had been curious about the demise of their relationship. “Remember how I said I was pregnant in jail?” He nodded. “He let me take the fall for a theft; I got caught, he got away.”

A pit formed in his stomach. “He did what?” he growled.

She waved him off. “It’s in the past; nothing to be done for it now. And, y’know, there’s a part of me that still loves him—and probably always will. But I can’t forget the pain, either.”

He longed desperately to punch Bae—or worse—for doing that to Emma, but given his own indiscretions against the lad, he didn’t have much of a moral high ground. (It would mean more if Emma were to do it, anyway.) “It’s understandable that you’d have complicated feelings towards him, then,” he offered instead. “And you are the only one who gets to decide what to do about them.”

“Thanks,” she said sincerely, a small smile coming back to her face. 

They simply sat for a moment, still holding hands, as the weight of their conversation settled around them. He figured he should probably add to that, though. “Also, I need to apologize for my behavior earlier, back in the Hollow. I can’t fully blame it on my hormones, but I definitely gave into some baser instincts that nearly cost us the mission—and our lives. I’m so sorry.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then seemed to lack the words to say in response. He didn’t need one, really; it was more important that he say it than she accept.

But then she leaned in towards him and pressed her lips to his—firmly, but briefly.

She pulled away quickly and stood, dropping his hand as she did. “Go back to sleep; we need our rest for tomorrow,” she said—nay, commanded—then headed back to her own bedroll.

He stared as she walked away, then slowly laid back down. How could she do that and then expect him to simply fall back asleep and not be left with a tempest of emotions to deal with?

(Likely, she presumed he was pregnant and fatigued—which was an accurate assumption, and he did drift back off much sooner than he thought—but bloody hell; he wasn’t sure what was going to be harder to survive: their impending confrontation with Pan, or the emotional whiplash she was inducing.)

—----------------------------------------

In truth, Killian had no idea how much time passed during the events that followed. That was one of the odd things about Neverland—the vagueness of the passage of time; it could have been a couple days or only a couple hours. (It certainly felt like the former.)

That morning, they packed up camp and followed Tink’s lead to Pan’s hideout. After stepping aside to (urgently) relieve himself (one of the many side effects of pregnancy he was discovering), he came back to see Snow and David being far more affectionate than they had been over the last…however long. Something must have changed while he was on his little adventure yesterday.

On their hike, he found himself in stride with David as the fairy set the path. “So, you and the missus seem to be back on good terms,” he observed. 

“Yeah,” David said, smiling a bit, but not fully. “We’re, uh, we’re gonna stay.”

“Stay?”

“Here, in Neverland. Since I can’t leave.”

“Seriously?” He was aghast that anyone would willingly live here, but David just nodded. “Well, it’s…romantic, I guess. I wish you the best of luck.”

Any response David was about to give was interrupted by an unwelcome rustle in the jungle ahead; they were both quick with their blades, as were Tinkerbelle and Neal. But it was just Regina and Rumpelstiltskin, joining back up with them, apparently. Much as he loathed to admit it, it was good timing, too; they had come with a better tool to aid in their fight against Pan. 

“Pandora's box,” Regina said, explaining the odd cube Rumple held. “It could trap Pan for eternity simply by opening the lid.” He rather liked the sound of that. 

Neal, however, did not—or rather, didn’t like any idea that came from his father (of that, they were generally in agreement). 

But Neal’s explanation of a prophecy stating that Henry might be the Dark One’s undoing turned everyone’s head—and then, all of them against Rumpelstiltskin. 

Given the man’s reputation, no one quite believed him when he said he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt Henry—not until he offered Pandora’s box to Neal, in exchange promising he wouldn’t use magic. 

Killian wasn’t sure if it was due to that revelation or the general weight of what they were about to take on, but tension settled over the group as they continued on; even his babe’s movements were a bit more stuttered, it seemed. But at least now, he felt comfortable enough to rest his hand on his belly around the others; he wasn’t sure if the sense of comfort he was trying to pass to his child was felt by the little one, but it at least was by him.

A bit later, Emma came up alongside him with a canteen. But after he’d had a few sips, she asked, “Hey, can we talk?”

“I've found when a woman says that, I'm rarely in for pleasant conversation,” he teased, but obviously he wouldn’t deny a reason to chat with her.

“There has to be a way for David to leave the island—right?”

His heart fell; the one time she was trying to find a bright side, and he had none to offer. “I wish there was, love, but there isn't.”

She (adorably) chewed her bottom lip. “That water—it’s connected to the island, right? What if we take some of it with us? That way he can stay alive in Storybrooke.”

Gods, he hated to be the bearer of bad news. “In theory, yes, but for how long? Once the water runs out, the dreamshade will take his life.”

“Unless there was another cure.” The Crocodile had apparently been eavesdropping, but everyone stopped when he spoke. “Oh, you’re suddenly interested in what I have to say? Thought I wasn't to be trusted,” he sneered. 

“You're not, but I'll take my chances,” Emma snapped; Killian wasn’t so sure. 

But apparently the Dark One had been working on an antidote to the poison ever since Killian’s attempt to murder him with it hadn’t worked out (alas—though he supposed, for Henry’s sake, it was a good thing it hadn’t). 

“What's your price?” Emma asked, perhaps a bit too earnestly—but he knew she could handle a deal with the Dark One. 

“Well, this is quite the favor. I'd expect one of equal weight in return,” Gold answered, far too happy. 

“No,” Neal countered. “When we get back to Storybrooke, you're gonna save David because it's the right thing to do. No deals, no favors, understand?”

Killian turned away and brushed a tear from his eye; he was so proud of the lad (even if they were effectively the same age, he’d always think of him as that boy on his ship) (although he was still angry at him for what Emma had told him; gods, these emotional swings were annoying).

And, amazingly, Gold agreed. Emma, excitedly, ran to tell her father. (Killian had a few more tears to secretly brush away; damned hormones.)

He was able to pull it together by the time they got to the perimeter of Pan’s camp (although he nearly boiled over again when the Dark One “borrowed” his sword—without permission; at least David had an extra).

Despite all their mental preparedness, they hadn’t anticipated finding a nearly empty camp, save for—of all things—a girl.

Wendy was her name, apparently; he’d heard it in passing in his centuries here before, though was unaware she had shared history with Bae. But their brief happy reunion was cut short when she revealed the reality of the situation: that Pan was dying, and he needed Henry’s heart to survive—but they had already left for Skull Rock.

A new plan was quickly hashed out that, unfortunately, had the group splitting up—the idea made him nervous, even though tactically, he knew it was necessary. As such, he and Tink made their way back to his ship to prep it for departure; if all went well, as soon as Emma had retrieved her son, they’d be able to immediately disembark and get the hell out of this cursed realm.

“Good luck, Swan,” he told her, being so bold as to reach for her hand before everyone went their separate ways. “Like I said—I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She gave him half of a smile and squeezed his hand back. “Thanks; you too. See you soon?”

“I look forward to it.”

He and Tink then headed toward where they’d docked the ship, but if he wasn’t mistaken, she was being weird—constantly sending him sideways glances with a smirk on her lips.

“What?” he finally asked her. “Something is on your mind; spit it out, fairy.”

“Someone’s got a crush on Em-ma,” she sing-songed in reply.

He scoffed. “You’ve really been here too long; I think the immaturity of the Lost Boys has rubbed off on you.”

“Oh, come on; it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I didn’t say that I was—or that I was trying to hide it. She’s quite aware.”

“Wait!” she said urgently, then jumped in front of him and grabbed his chin. She turned his face side to side, then grinned. “Oh, there it is!”

“What?” he asked, pulling his head back and out of her grasp. 

“Emma’s kiss,” she answered, winking.

“You can see that?” he hissed, then nervously scratched behind an ear. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to fairies,” she tossed back, then started their trek again. “Does she know about the little one?”

“Aye; everyone does,” he confirmed. “Not like I’ll be able to hide it a whole lot longer.” He cupped his still-small bump, but knew it was only a matter of time before it was obvious. (And also made a mental note to visit the doctor as soon as they docked in Storybrooke.)

“No, probably not,” she laughed. She looked over her shoulder to say something else, but then a blast of energy emanated from across the island, knocking them both down.

While not as dramatic as his fall in Dark Hollow, he still took a minute to check on his babe before rising to his feet and helping Tink up. “The bloody hell was that?”

Any humor she’d had in her expression had disappeared. “No idea, but I think it came from Skull Rock.”

Oh no; that couldn’t mean anything good.

And without any further discussion, they both started to run back in the direction they’d come—back to the others. Something told him that the plans had just changed drastically.

He just prayed it wouldn’t hinder them leaving.

—---------------------------------

Killian’s stomach was not presently strong enough for the sight that greeted him upon their return to Pan’s camp: not only was the Dark One nowhere to be seen, but Henry lay on a pallet, pale and lifeless.

He had to excuse himself to retch; gods forbid anything like that ever happened to his child.

Regina quickly told everyone what had happened—the other groups had arrived at roughly the same time: how Henry had been tricked to giving Pan his heart (who had subsequently ran off with it—as well as Pandora’s box, but not before trapping Rumpelstiltskin inside it), and if they weren’t able to get it back within the next hour, the boy would die—and Pan would win.

The Lost Boys had returned, but most were holding loyal to Pan and refusing to reveal where he’d gone. At least, they were until Emma began to talk to them—and offered the one thing so many of them wanted: a home. 

(Killian’s tears returned.)

And finally, one boy told them what they needed to know: Pan had gone to his thinking tree in the Pixie Woods. He knew exactly where that was. 

Quickly, they hashed together a new plan from the old one: while the ladies took on Pan, everyone else would head back to the ship to make a hasty exit. 

There was no time for a sentimental farewell this time, but hopefully the knowing nod he gave Emma would suffice. And then they were off. 

Neal turned to him. “Let's gather up the Lost Boys and get 'em aboard the Jolly Roger, then get it ready to fly.”

He bit back the initial annoyance that anyone was giving commands for his ship, but that was beside the point right now. Fly? “Let's hope you have a Pegasus sail. Otherwise, we're at the mercy of the trade winds.”

Neal held up the coconut. “Pan's Shadow. It'll get us home, as long as your ship holds together.”

He couldn’t hold back any indignation at the insult towards his ship, though. “As long as your plan holds together, she will,” he snapped back.

He felt a bit guilty for the attitude, even if he had an excuse at the ready for being short with…well, anyone, but thankfully Neal just smirked and shoved the coconut back in his bag, then shouldered it before doing the same to Henry’s prone form.

Tink and the Charmings led the way to the ship, while he and Neal brought up the rear, making sure none of the Lost Boys got, er, more lost. 

Also—they were definitely the slowest of the group. Killian was slogging after his restless night, while Neal obviously had a heavy load. 

“Are you alright with him, mate?” Killian asked Neal. “Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I got him,” came the strained answer. “Besides, you shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting, should you?”

“Ah, probably not,” he agreed, vaguely recalling something about that in a book. Then he chuckled. “In a way, we’re both carrying our children at the moment, eh?”

Neal laughed. “Honestly, think I prefer this way. Might not be as small but I dunno if I could handle birth.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” he admitted in reply. “But I suppose it can’t be that much worse than losing a hand—right?”

“I guess you’ll find out,” Neal answered. Then he added, “This is still really weird for me, you know; not how I ever thought I’d get a sibling.”

“Aye, I imagine so. But the fact you’re at least acknowledging it is appreciated, rather than running off screaming.”

“It is what it is; but we can figure out the family dynamics when we’re home, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughed in agreement. 

But then he mused on what Neal said: “home.” Obviously, their next destination was Storybrooke; that was home port for most of this little band. But…could it be his?

He thought about it as they reached the ship and readied it for travel. There was no sense trying to go back to the Enchanted Forest; there was nothing left for him there anymore. And Neverland was the only other realm he’d spent much time in; like hell would he attempt to raise a child here. 

So Storybrooke seemed as good a place as any. (And its proximity to Emma was certainly a plus.)

He was perhaps getting lost in daydreams of a potential life in that small town adjacent to its blonde sheriff when she arrived, stomping up to the deck with Regina and Snow in tow—but most importantly, Henry’s heart. 

With not a minute to spare, Regina restored the boy’s heart. There was a tense moment waiting to see what would happen, but then Henry gasped and opened his eyes, a collective sigh of relief sounding from the adults in response. 

The lad was mildly confused by what had happened but just happy to be okay, and obviously tired. “Well then—only the best for our guest of honor. Captain's quarters,” Killian offered, and Regina ushered him below deck. 

As everyone got settled, Neal freed Rumpelstiltskin from Pandora’s box. While he wasn’t thrilled to see his foe again, it did mean that David could be cured—and that did bring a happy tear to his eye. 

He wanted to go to Emma and share a bit of that joy, but Neal moved into her space. So instead, he mounted the quarter deck and took a moment alone—well, he and the babe. “We’re almost through this, little one,” he whispered, cupping his belly. “Then smooth sailing until you arrive.”

Once Regina had returned to the deck, she and Emma went about manipulating Pan’s shadow into a more usable form—particularly, trapping it in the jib sail. It made him sick, on top of the usual wave of nausea he was dealing with, but what other option was there?

“You think it'll fly?” Emma wondered, staring at the eerily dark sail. 

“It has no choice,” Regina confirmed. 

“Then let's get the hell out of Neverland.”

That was his cue. “As you wish, m'lady,” and gave the command to weigh anchor. 

Finally—they were leaving this accursed realm. And as he felt his baby kicking within, he smiled, looking forward to the future for the first time in so long. 

————————————-

Emma immediately found Killian’s eyes; he could tell she was looking for the truth in them. “Neal is... alive?” she repeated, clearly unsure if she was hearing correctly; he desperately wished he could confirm or deny the statement.

“Well, maybe,” Snow added, then quickly apologized, mainly to him and David.

Regina, to no surprise, was not interested in a rescue mission, while Emma continued to question the validity of what she’d been told—as if the more she denied the possibility, the less likely it would be true. 

But in the end, Snow managed to convince her it was worth it to try, and at the very least, someone was likely in danger. They agreed to set off on a possible rescue mission, but Regina hung back, unconvinced. 

Snow led the way, following the trail of struggle through the jungle. She and Emma ended up a bit ahead of him and David, so Killian took the moment of moderate privacy to assess David’s mental state after the previous day’s happenings.

“So what’s the plan here, mate?” he asked quietly.

“You’re the jungle expert; I should be asking you that,” he replied, willfully missing the point, if Killian had to guess.

“I meant in regards to telling the missus that there won’t be a home sweet home for you after all of this.”

“Are we really having this conversation again?”

“Yes,” Killian said simply.

David sighed. “…I’m working on it,” he eventually answered. 

“No time like the present,” Killian said, gesturing ahead at the ladies, who were engaged in their own conversation.

“No offense, but I’m not gonna take advice on that kind of thing from you right now,” David bit back. 

“The hell does that mean?”

“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with personal details that might affect those around you, either,” he explained, nodding towards Killian’s midsection.

Defensively, he put his hand over his bump. “Piss off; I told you, didn’t I?” 

“Under duress,” David countered. “It’s not exactly the same as being upfront.”

Killian would have argued his case further—the list of reasons why he was still trying to keep his pregnancy low-profile was rather long—but Snow interrupted them.

“The tracks lead directly into that cave,” she called out, pointing at an opening in the face of the rocks ahead of them. “This must be where Pan is keeping Neal.”

The lone perk to constantly facing gut-wrenching scenarios on the cursed island was that he was finally able to tell the difference between pregnancy-related nausea and unrelated anxiety. What he was feeling now was definitely the latter—because he knew this cave all too well.

“If the cave is some sort of prison, why aren't there any guards posted to stop us?” David wondered, hand on the hilt of his sword and searching the trees for a trap.

“Because this prison doesn't require guards,” Killian explained. “It’s the Echo Cave.” He then had to explain to the group how he’d lost far too many men to it, owing to its mythology. “The only way to rescue someone from inside is to reveal a secret.”

“A secret? That's all?” (He supposed he wasn’t shocked that Snow didn’t find that a difficult thing to face.)

“Your darkest secret,” he went on. “The Echo Cave derives its name from an old saying: ‘the deeper the lie, the more truth in its echo.’ The cave demands that you reveal a truth about yourself. A secret you would never admit to anyone.”

Emma scoffed. “This is ridiculous.” But she was noticeably studying the forest floor.

“Don't kill the messenger, love.” (He didn’t disagree, though.)

That didn’t satisfy her. “Even if we spill our guts, how do we know Neal's still alive in there?” She was looking at him and it was obvious she was still willing it to not be true.

However, he was more convinced than ever that Pan hadn’t been lying. “Because this is what Pan wants. He wants us to rescue him.”

“Why?” asked David.

Killian turned to him.”So that we reveal our secrets,” he answered pointedly. “He likely believes once we do, our secrets will destroy us.”

David swallowed nervously. (Perhaps it was a good thing he’d waited to tell Snow about the price of his recovery; that fact just might be coming in handy.)

Not wishing to delay the inevitable, Killian stepped ahead and led the group into the cave. A narrow, dark tunnel opened into a wide cavern, lit in a blue glow from the moon streaming through a smaller hole above. There was a landing just large enough for the group to stand, and then a chasm opened up, save for a lone pedestal in the middle—upon which a bamboo cage sat, with a familiar person inside.

“Emma!” Neal shouted, and her name echoed across the stone walls.

All eyes were on Emma as she reacted to his presence, shrinking back and quietly murmuring his name. Killian longed to comfort her, but now wasn’t the time or place.

Ever logical, Snow and Charming debated whether or not it was possible to launch a mechanical rescue, but Killian knew that was for nought.

“So what do we do?” Emma asked, somewhat emotionless.

“I told you what needs to be done,” Killian stated. “Consider this the moment of truth, literally. Now... who wants to kick things off?”

No one did—not that Killian could blame them—especially because there was no guarantee it would work. 

“Fine, I’ll start,” he huffed, then took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

The ensuing pause was, too.

The trio glanced around to see if anything would happen, but nothing did; the cave remained unchanged, Neal just as far away as he once was.

“Think you might need a more secret-er secret,” Emma said. “I mean, I already knew that.”

“Same,” David chimed in.

Okay, so that wasn’t Killian’s best effort. (“Well, I didn’t,” Snow said quietly.)

“To be fair, it was the first time I’ve admitted it when not under immediate pressure,” he clarified, “but, aye.” Then he swallowed. He’d been hoping that would be a sufficient enough truth, but the cave apparently demanded more. “I kissed Emma.” 

Emma rolled her eyes at that, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was in response to his admission—or David’s indignant reaction.

“I already told Mary Margaret, so technically that’s not a secret either,” she said. “But it was just a kiss. How's that your darkest secret?”

He ignored the sting of her minimization of their encounter and went on. “It's what the kiss exposed. My secret is, I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love... of my Milah…” He could feel his little one kicking at the mention of their mother, but found Emma’s eyes as he continued. “...To believe that I could find someone else—that is, until I met you.” 

He didn’t know if it was love yet, but what he was feeling for Emma wasn’t just hormones or base attraction—he knew his own feelings well enough to know when he was falling, and gods was he.

Emma’s eyes grew wide at the confession and the conflict in her gaze was obvious. She was about to speak, it looked like, when suddenly, the ground shook—and behind him, rock appeared out of nothing, growing out from the pedestal holding Neal and reaching towards them.

So that’s how that worked.

He’d stepped back from the edge of the cliff to watch what happened, and now stood next to Emma. He glanced over at her, but she was again studying the ground. Well, what did he expect after the kind of emotion he dropped on her?

Snow and David followed him with their confessions; when Snow revealed her desire to have another child, Killian didn’t miss the flicker of pain on Emma’s face—nor the similar but different ache when David finally told them about his inability to leave Neverland.

At that, the stone bridge connecting them to Neal was complete, and Emma didn’t hesitate to run across it, nor did he blame her (although it was somewhat awkward standing there with her parents, when Snow was clearly upset by their previous deception).

He watched as Emma tried brute force to free Bae, but couldn’t hear their conversation. If he had to guess, Emma’s own truth was probably required; a few moments later, the cage disappeared and the former lovers embraced.

With Bae saved, no one felt the need to stay any longer in that conflicting cave, and quickly exited. Neal expressed his thanks, and confirmed his ability to still read his star map; that was one less thing to worry about. Now it was just a matter of getting Henry. 

They left to head back to the camp, though an awkward air had definitely settled on them. The weight of the revelations hadn’t fractured them, but things had definitely shifted and would need to settle. 

For his part, he was keen to keep his distance from the anger simmering beneath Snow’s surface, but given Emma’s lack of a response to his confession, he wasn’t about to hang back and wait for her. Besides, she was deep in conversation with Bae, so Killian stayed vaguely between the two pairs on their hike back. 

Lest he feel lonely, his little one resumed their activities, seemingly playing football with his liver. Perhaps not the most comfortable sensation, but a reminder of what he was truly fighting for: their future. There was nothing he could do about whatever Emma may or may not feel for him (despite her obvious attraction), but so long as he and the babe escaped this realm unharmed, all would be well. 

(That said—try as he might not to eavesdrop, he couldn’t help but overhear Emma say to Neal, “I wish I could change how I feel more than anything, but... I can't. I'm sorry.”

As vague as that statement was, his heart stuttered at the possibility she might have meant him. So lest his heart begin to hope too hard, he picked up the pace and let the sounds of his steps drown out their conversation. 

Maybe…but first, they had to get home.)

————————————————–