#i--still--do

“Lord Cassidy, thank you for inviting us,” Prince Charming spoke as he joined his daughter.  Snow White flanked Emma’s other side, nodding once in agreement.

  “You honor us with your presence, your majesties,” Neal replied with a slight bow.  “You remember my sister, of course.  Ariel?” He looked behind him and gestured to a young woman clad in a somber mauve gown.  Her rich, auburn hair would be enviable were it not twisted into a tight knot at the nape of her neck.  Combined with the sour expression she directed toward Emma, Ariel Cassidy was almost the antithesis of her brother.

  “Why Ariel Cassidy, if I didn’t know better I’d say you weren’t happy to see us,” Emma remarked, her voice laden with practiced charm and just a sting of venom. 

  Rising from her curtsy, Ariel smiled tightly at Emma.  “Princess Emma, what a lovely gown you’re wearing.”  She looked pointedly at Emma’s exposed décolletage. 

  “Yes, well, it is a bit warm today, don’t you agree?” Dismissing Ariel, Emma smiled at Neal, her green eyes shining with adoration.  “I do hope we’ll have a chance to speak later.”

  “I’d like that.  There’s something I’d very much like to speak with you about,” Neal shared. 

  Emma’s grin blossomed along with her spirit.  Any lingering annoyance at Ariel’s insipid reception was completely blanketed by an almost painful hope.  “Until later, then,” she commented, allowing her parents to lead her further onto the grounds. 

  Despite the parade of attendees still waiting their turn in their gilded carriages, the reception at Cassidy Manor was already teeming with the Enchanted Forest’s aristocracy.  Men and women garbed in their finest ensembles tittered and gossiped in one conversation or another, though all paused to incline their head as the royal family wandered by.  Emma reveled in the attention, noting many a gentleman staring almost slack-jawed as she passed.  She greeted each in turn, and giggled to herself as she took in their companions’ jealous glares.  Of course it was all in jest; she had no real designs on any of them.  But to be wanted was a heady feeling.  And it was hardly her fault if she drew their attention when the other ladies did not.

  “Emma!”   Turning toward the sudden exclamation, Emma had just enough time to recognize her friend before Belle wrapped her in a tight embrace.  “Oh, I’ve missed you.  And I’ve so much to tell you!” She entwined her arm with Emma’s and waved to Queen Snow White and Prince Charming before leading their daughter away.  Her large, vibrant eyes were positively giddy with whatever secrets she was bursting to share. 

  “And no doubt I’ll be green with envy when you’re done,” Emma chided, though the truth of her words was closer than Belle knew.  She paused and looked over her friend, taking in the healthy glow of her skin and the exotic fabric of her gown.  “You look radiant, Belle.  Clearly this trip was just what you needed.”

  Belle clutched Emma’s hands.  “It really was, and…” her mouth scrunched as she worried at her lower lip.  “I met someone.”

  A tiny seed of resentment burned in Emma’s stomach.  She swallowed thickly to keep it from bubbling to the surface.  “Did you?  Well that’s surprising.”  Some of the excitement in Belle’s eyes waned, though Emma didn’t notice.  “I didn’t realize any of the aristocracy lived in those parts.”

  “He’s not part of the gentry,” Belle explained.  “He’s a merchant.  More of an artist, really.”

  Emma held back a laugh.  “An artist?  Oh Belle, please tell me you haven’t fallen for a vagabond.  You know he’s likely only after your money.”

  Belle tilted her chin up, her lips stretched in a forced smile.  “He’s a tailor.  He creates his own fabrics and designs.  He made this dress for me,” she explained, standing back to showcase her gown to its fullest extent.  “He hopes to open his own store once he’s saved enough money.”

  Something in Belle’s tone finally reached Emma’s conscience.  Resolve with a dash of hurt lingered in her features where joy had shined so brightly only moments before.  Emma sighed then looked over Belle’s gown with fresh eyes.  The design was unique, and the embroidery rivaled some of her mother’s finest garments.  “He’s very talented,” Emma offered.  “It’s a shame you have to wait to be together.”

  Belle was quiet for a long moment before she nodded briskly.  “Hopefully not too long,” she replied, her voice quieter than it had been, but full of warmth once more.  “And you?” Belle inquired.  “Any advancements with your own romantic pursuits?”

  Emma blushed, her eyes sweeping over the nearby guests discreetly.  “Neal asked to speak with me later.  He said he had something important to discuss with me.”

  Belle grinned.  “Oh Emma, that’s wonderful!”

  “Shhh,” Emma cautioned, inexplicably uncomfortable with Belle’s reaction.  Her eyes swept the crowd dispersed across the vast lawn, checking that their conversation had not been overheard.  A group of gentleman stood nearby, engaged in some heated debate.  Emma could just make out enough of their words to grasp they were speaking of the recent ogre attacks on the edges of the Enchanted Forest.  She rolled her eyes; it seemed all the young men were besotted with the idea of war.  Even here, amidst glamorous revelry, they insisted upon reviving the dull conversation.  Except for her Neal.  He surely would give no further attention to such nonsense. 

  As if sensing her eyes on him, one of the men suddenly met her gaze.  Emma gasped as a strange sensation raced through her veins.  His eyes were an incredible shade of blue – akin to the deep waters she once appreciated on a sailing voyage with her father.  And like those waters, she found herself drawn to search the depths of him.  His hair was nearly black, as were his thick brows and his trim beard, though oddly, his whiskers were tinted with shades of chestnut, too.  A thin scar decorated his cheek and added to his overall mystique.  She wondered how he’d come to gain that scar, and what it would feel like if she were to run her fingertips over it.

  The man lifted one of his brows in question before winking at her.  Heat flushed her cheeks and Emma spun away, overcome with sudden anger.  At least, that’s what it felt like: raw, exposed emotion churning within.  How dare he look at her in such a manner?  Who was this man, exactly?

  “Emma?  Are you alright?” Belle asked softly. 

  Emma peeked over her shoulder once more, watching as the man lifted a silver flask to his lips.  Of course he would be drinking alcohol already.  He practically screamed scoundrel!  Catching her eye once more, he grinned at her – a lopsided smirk which hinted at sinful doings.  He let his gaze roam freely over Emma’s figure before lifting his flask toward her in a silent salute.

  Emma growled.  “Who is that man?”

  “That’s Captain Killian Jones,” Belle answered, not realizing Emma had been commenting to herself.

  “You know him?”

  “I know of him,” Belle clarified.  “They say he’s from a noble family, but they won’t have anything to do with him because of his involvement in some past disgrace.”

  Emma glanced back once more.  The captain was listening to the conversation, though he lacked the mask of fervor all the other young men seemed to wear when discussing the rumors of war.  “He looked at me like he was imagining me without my clothes on,” Emma confessed.

  “How scandalous,” Belle remarked.  Standing on her tiptoes, she peered behind Emma to capture one last look at the man in question, releasing a small squeak when Emma pulled her away. 

  “I’m tired of talking about him.  Let’s go inside.  Neal should be nearly finished greeting the other guests,” Emma said, straightening her spine and holding her head high like the princess she was. 

  The two women chatted amiably as they followed the cobblestone path leading from the lawn into Cassidy Manor.  A grand staircase dominated the foyer, crowned by a chandelier the size of a war horse, encrusted with countless crystals.  “Look!” Belle exclaimed, pointing toward the top of the stairs.  “There’s Tinker Bell.  I heard the fairies might be here.  Oh, let’s go say hello.”

  “Must we?” Emma retorted, a slight whine in her tone.  “She’ll want to tell us all about Neverland again.”

  “It’s the polite thing to do,” Belle said.  “Besides, last I heard she was staying with Queen Regina.  I’m sure she’ll have a lot of interesting news to share about that.”

  Emma exhaled slowly as she curled her fingers tightly in the fabric of her skirt.  Of course Tinker Bell had also spent last season travelling.  It seemed everyone had the chance to explore other realms except the actual princess.  Meanwhile, Emma was treated to boring tutorials designed to improve her elocution, poise, and political mind.  As if Neal Cassidy would be incapable of negotiating treaties without the assistance of his wife and Queen.

  “There you are,” spoke a familiar voice.  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  As swiftly as it arose, Emma’s ire expelled from her body.  Thoughts of the winsome fairy and the darkly handsome man were forgotten as she turned to address Neal.  “I’ve just come in from the gardens,” she explained, immediately cursing herself for her response.  As she was still standing in the entryway, it was clear that she’d just entered the hall.

  Neal smiled nonetheless.  That same worshipful quality in his expression eased Emma’s spirit.  He sought her out.  He wanted to speak with her, specifically.  And most importantly, she still caused him to brighten even when he was already immersed in pleasantries.  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.  You know all about these formalities, I’m sure.”

  Emma nodded enthusiastically.  “Of course.  And it’s fine.  I was able to visit with Belle.”

  Neal suddenly looked at Belle as if just noticing her presence. “Ah yes; Lady French.  I don’t believe I had the chance to greet you personally upon your arrival.”

  Belle laughed.  “Your sister was most inviting.  But my father and I thank you for your hospitality.”

  Emma smiled warmly at the pair of them, pleased at Neal’s gentle manners and his ability to instantly put those around him at ease.  Not like some other men with their flirtatious smiles and dangerous eyes.  No, she wouldn’t give him any more thought.  She would enjoy every moment of this gathering and tonight she’d be dancing in Neal’s arms.

  “There she is,” Neal spoke softly, his gaze directed beyond both Emma and Belle.  Turning, Emma’s eyes widened as Tinker Belle approached them.  The young woman had admittedly changed for the better in the year since Emma had seen her.  Long ringlets of gold cascaded over her shoulders, nearly rivaling Emma’s own shining locks.  Her cherubic face had lost some of its roundness, leaving a delicate nose and a pert mouth in its wake. 

  Tinker Bell stopped next to Neal and a stab of confusion assailed Emma’s heart when he casually wrapped his arm around her waist.  “Princess Emma, it’s such a pleasure to see you again,” she said.

  Emma wished her words were laced with insincerity.  She wanted those violet eyes to show a touch of malice or envy, if only to match the emotions rioting in her own soul.  She would not be jealous of a fairy.  Surely Neal was just being overly friendly, as he was known for.  “Likewise,” she managed to choke out.  “I trust your journey was agreeable?  It’s such a far distance from Neverland.  It really is quite generous of your father to travel so far just for a ball.”

  Neal and Tinker Bell smiled in unison, looking briefly at each other.  “Tink’s not just here for the ball, Emma.”  He paused, searching her expression.  Did he see the confusion in her eyes?  Did he know how perilously he held her heart in the grips of his words?  “She’s my fiancée.”

  No.  Emma’s mind went blank.  The only word she could process was the seemingly innocuous one-syllable word.  No.  He didn’t know…he couldn’t know.  “That’s wonderful,” she heard herself say – the years of ingrained courtly manners responding automatically.  Distantly, she realized Tinker Bell was still speaking, but her thoughts could only focus on that tiny word.  “Excuse me,” she blurted out.  “I think my mother needs me.  Congratulations.”

  Relying on that same innate strength – the one she flaunted whenever she encountered unpleasantness, she forced her feet to step away. 

__________________________________________

(The trip had been planned long before it actually occurred, a promise in the midst of an ice storm that had everyone missing the sun and the wondrous heat that it brings. Henry had said that they should take a day to go to the beach as soon as they figured out "this whole ice queen situation", and both Killian and Emma had readily agreed.)

While Emma makes sure to cover his visible skin with sunscreen, he watches her and the way her eyes flit to and fro as she works. He lets his eyes trail down her body, taking the time to truly appreciate the swimwear she is sporting, what she called a "bikini". It simply makes her look even more ravishing than usual, as if such a feat was even possible.

Her hair is tied at the back of her neck, small pieces of it escaping and hanging on the sides of her face. Long locks of gold still fall over her shoulder, shining brighter than he's ever seen in the sunshine that beams down on them. He smiles, lifting a hand to brush his fingers over the ends closest to him.

"You're staring," she tells him, not even looking up at him from where she rubs sunscreen onto his arms.

"You're beautiful," he replies without pause, feeling a small rush of glee when a light shade of pink colors her cheeks. She attempts to cover it up with a smirk, but he shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead, grinning at her. "All done?" She nods and he raises an eyebrow when she appraises him with a curious look.

"What?"

"Do I get to return the favor?" he asks, tilting his head at her.

He can see her tongue pressing into the side of her cheek as she narrows her eyes at him, casting a glance at Henry, who is at the shore looking for seashells. "Sure," she says after a moment, and his grin widens.

He takes his time, spraying the sunscreen and gently rubbing it into her skin, relishing in the way her breath catches every time he touches a more sensitive area. "You're doing that on purpose," she mumbles after he takes care of the area between her belly button and her swimsuit, successfully making her squirm just the slightest.

"Have to make sure you don't get burned, darling."

She halfheartedly slaps at his arm, but when he drops the bottle back into the bag they brought to wrap his arms around her waist and capture her lips in his, she seems to run out of protests, at least for the moment.

------

"I do believe that is the grandest castle I have ever laid my eyes on," Killian tells Henry, who is finishing off their sand fortress with a small stick on the tallest tower, a leaf punctured on the top to resemble a flag.

Henry laughs, his smile infectious as they sit back to appraise their work. He nods after a moment, offering Killian his hand to shake. "It is, isn't it? Thanks for the help, Captain."

"Looks good, guys," Emma says as she approaches, her phone in hand. "Here, get beside it and smile so I can take a picture."

They do as instructed, and after the picture is taken she looks at it, the corners of her mouth tipping upward in a soft smile.

Henry demands to see the photo, standing and then beckoning for Killian to do the same. It makes his heart pull to see the sight before him, both of them covered in sand but smiling proudly at their accomplishment. "I like it," Emma whispers, leaning into Killian's shoulder. His hand finds her hip almost automatically, already so attuned to her that the action is simply a reflex. "I might just get that framed."

Killian kisses her saltwater drenched hair, squeezing her hip lightly. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

------

"Killian!"

Henry's yelp turns into laughter as Killian throws him over his shoulder easily, carrying him into the water and tossing him in. He comes up spluttering but smiling, vowing vengeance before lunging back at Killian, submerging him as well. The battle continues for a few moments until they both reach the sand again, Henry holding his side laughing and Killian's deep chuckles mixing in with the sound.

"I think we both know I won that round," Henry says once he's caught his breath.

Killian smirks but nods at him, lifting his hands as if in surrender. "Alright, but I will get you next time, don't you worry."

Henry's answering smile is slightly mischievous, and Killian swears he looks more like his father every day. Killian glances back at Emma, who is sitting on her towel a little ways behind them. Her lips tug up a little when she sees him, the affection in her gaze while she looks at them making his heart jump in his chest. He had thought, not even too long ago, that the beaten and scarred organ was no longer capable of such happiness, but each day he spends with Emma and Henry only further proves him wrong.

He loves them more than he ever imagined he could love anyone, and knows that he will until the day he takes his last breath.

"Hey, Killian, we should eat those sandwiches we brought!" Henry is already up and heading back toward Emma, walking backwards so he can raise an eyebrow at Killian. "I'm sorry we couldn't get bologna though. We'll definitely do that next time."

Rolling his eyes and damning the day Emma told the lad that story, Killian stands and grabs him around the waist again, putting him over his shoulder until they've reached their destination.

------

"You're in the wrong room, kid," Emma tells a sunburned Henry, who collapsed on their bed (He still gets a shiver that runs down his spine when he thinks of things that way -- their apartment, their room, their bed) as soon as they had gotten back in the apartment.

"Your room is always cooler," Henry moans, pressing his face into the covers. "Will you please go get me some aloe?"

Emma sighs, giving Killian an exasperated look before disappearing out the bedroom door. Killian sits down on the edge of the bed, smirking when Henry cracks open one eye to look at him. "Is she getting it?"

"I do believe so, yes."

Henry nods and recloses his eye, silence enveloping them for a moment, though it isn't uncomfortable. There are sounds of Emma opening the refrigerator that can be heard from where they are, and Henry sighs.

"I'm really glad you're here... you know, with us. My mom is, too. I can tell." His voice is soft, exhaustion from the day slowly creeping into his tone, but Killian hears him loud and clear.

The words reach far into the depths of Killian's heart, tugging and pulling and making warmth run through every vein in his body. Moisture burns at the corners of his eyes suddenly, and he tries to blink it back. The emotion putting pressure on his chest prevents him from speaking, and before he can formulate a response, Emma is walking back in with a bottle that looks as if it's full of blue Jell-O. Killian learns, however, that the substance is much different, but holds some of the same healing properties.

Ten minutes later, Henry is sitting on one side of bed, a small fan on the cleared off nightstand beside him and blowing full force, with Emma on the other side and Killian in between them. They throw a movie into the DVD player, Frozen at Henry's begging and sly grin ("Seriously, Henry?" "Ah, come on, mom!").

It winds up not mattering anyway, as within thirty minutes of the movie beginning, both Emma and Henry have fallen asleep, Emma on his chest with his arm tucked around her and Henry on his shoulder. Killian smiles, his entire body warming as he looks at them, peaceful and relaxed and his. There was a time when he knew, just knew, that he would never have a family again. So many times he'd had those he cared for taken away from him, leaving him utterly alone. He had allowed himself to hope for the briefest moment, believing that there was light in the darkness that constantly surrounded him, and time after time, the hope was crushed.

And then he'd met her.

"I love you," he whispers into Emma's hair, and he thinks that she's subconsciously heard him when she hums in her sleep and snuggles just a little closer. He looks down at the dark mess of hair on Henry's head and smiles. "And I love you."

Henry mumbles incoherently, his head digging into Killian's shoulder as he shifts while a cartoon ice queen builds a castle, this version of the woman nothing like the tormented one he had come into contact with over the last few weeks. It makes him smile, knowing that, though it may not be for very long with their luck, his little family is here, safe and warm beside him.  

"I'm glad you're here."