Archive of Our Own

Killian Jones has been wandering around the eastern seaboard for as long as he can remember - which isn’t saying much since his earliest memory is from breakfast this morning. A breakfast consisting of a tic tac or perhaps an Advil (he still isn’t sure) and a half eaten granola bar he found wedged in the backseat of his car.

The latest town he’s passing through is unremarkably quaint, yet for some reason Killian finds himself wandering down by the docks even though it’s long past dusk and when he’d usually leave. He's running his hand along the cool metal railing separating him from the sea when a voice startles him.

"Who are you?"

Killian turns around to face the speaker and knows immediately that the woman has authority here. She stands tall with her shoulders back, drawing herself out to her full height. Her hair whips around wildly, shimmering gold in the dim moonlight. Her gaze is fierce and her eyes are blazing. Her brow is down low as she scowls at him with no small amount of suspicion.

Killian smirks at her. "I must say, this isn't the most welcoming town I've ever visited," he says, letting his accent bleed into his words a little more than usual. The innocent tourist angle almost always works.

She remains unmoved.

"We don't get many visitors here and you’re lurking around the docks." She shifts her stance, hands coming down to rest at her waist. The movement shifts aside her red leather jacket to reveal the shiny sheriff’s badge pinned to her hip. 

"I didn't realize walking along the shore was considered nefarious in this town," he says, unsure of what he’s hoping to accomplish by antagonizing the town sheriff.

She remains stonily silent and Killian shifts a little uncomfortably beneath her gaze before resorting to what always works. He sways forward and dips his thumb into his belt, putting on his best smoldering look. 

"Oh I do apologize, Sheriff…” he says, emphasizing the title, hoping she'll finish it for him.

She’s unmoved by his flirting, not even backing up when he steps what most would consider uncomfortably close.  "I believe I asked who you were first," she says, unimpressed. 

“Touché,” he says, tilting his head in supplication. He reaches out a hand and plasters on his most dazzling smile, the one that’s been known to bring grown women - and the occasional man - to their knees. "Killian Jones, at your service milady."

Her eyes flick down to his outstretched hand and he can see the exact second she notices his other hand - or lack thereof. There’s no pity in her eyes and less than a moment later her gaze is back on his. Killian’s hand is still outstretched between them. She doesn’t take it.

"Next time do your lurking during the day Jones," she says and her lips quirk up - just a bit around the edges, but it’s more amicable than anything so far and he’ll take it.

With that she turns to leave and it would be poetic, Killian thinks, if the only sound was the clicking of her boots against the pavement as she walked away, but the waves are too loud and screw poetic he doesn't want her to leave, not yet.

"Wait,” he says, and the crack in his voice sounds desperate even to his own ears, “I never did get your name sheriff.”

She stops in her tracks and turns halfway to face him. Her face is cast in shadow, eyes glinting reflectively - magically - in the darkness.

“Swan,” she says before disappearing into the night.

"You're not from here." The voice is young and accusatory. It’s no wonder this place has no tourism. 

"Aye," he says amicably, turning toward the boy. "Well spotted lad."

The boy’s eyes are dark and piercing as he stares, long scarf hung haphazardly around his shoulders, one end dangerously close to dragging on the sidewalk beside him. He has a book nearly as large as him clutched tightly in his arms.

The boy leans in, voice nothing more than a whisper, "You’re here to break the curse, aren’t you?"

Killian leans down and whispers back conspiratorially, "And what curse would that be?"

Disappointment flickers across the lad’s face and his grip on the book grows just a little bit tighter. He shakes his head. “Nothing. I don’t think it’s time yet.”

"Henry!" The sheriff yells from across the street. The boy jumps away from Killian as though he’s been burned.

"What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" she says crossing over to them and putting a protective hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Never talk to strangers," the boy - Henry - repeats what is clearly an oft spoken mantra. "But Mom, think about it, when has there ever been a stranger here before?"

Swan stops and scrunches her nose in concentration for a moment before shaking her head as if to clear it. "Sorry if my son was bothering you with fairy tales. Sometimes he needs to remember what is and isn't appropriate conversation with strangers," she says to Killian, though the last part feels directed more to the lad than him. 

Killian smiles, "Ah, so he takes after his mother I suspect?"

She glares at him and begins to usher her son away.

 Killian calls after them, asking her name once more in what he is sure is a futile gesture. The sheriff doesn’t even break stride, but the boy turns with a Cheshire smile, "it's Emma!" he calls before darting ahead of his mother clearly in hope of avoiding her wrath.

"Emma," Killian repeats, testing it out.

The name feels heavy on his tongue and he can’t help but wonder what her story is. His heart thumps a little out of rhythm and it feels like he’s going to become infatuated with the strange sheriff and then, he thinks, as he watches her sling her arm around the boy and ruffle his hair affectionately, maybe he already is.

Killian wanders around town for most of the morning, peering into storefronts and occasionally going inside. Each time he enters a store, the patrons immediately stop what they’re doing to stare at him. The boy was surely right, because there’s no way this town gets many visitors if they react to a stranger so oddly.

When he spots a library below the clock tower in the center of town he heads straight for it. If he has any chance of finding out what Henry was talking about with fairy tale curses - because of course that piqued his curiosity - then the library is his best place to start. Perhaps he’ll be able to find another copy of the dusty tome the boy was clutching as though his life depended on it.

The door to the building creaks as he opens it, the hinges squeaking in protest. The interior though, is bright and clearly well loved. He takes a deep breath, savoring the musty bookish smell that accompanies all libraries. The building is silent, unnaturally so, even for a library. Just as Killian begins to wonder if there is no one else in the building a head pops up from behind the circulation desk.

"Oh," the woman says, clearly surprised. She swipes non-existent dust off her skirt and stands up straighter. "What are you doing - I mean can I help you?"

Killian nods and steps towards her. "Killian Jones," he says with a grin and extends his hand.

 Her grip is warm and gentle as she takes his hand and smiles at him. It's the first time he's gotten a warm greeting since he's arrived in this place.

"Belle," she says.

"I'm hoping you can help me find a book lass,” he says, “You know Henry Swan I take it?" Killian figures it isn’t much of a stretch to assume the woman knows Henry since everyone seems to know Killian is an outsider before he even opens his mouth. 

She tilts her head at him and her brow furrows. "Do you mean Henry Mills?"

Killian shakes his head and leans against the circulation desk affecting casual indifference. "No, I'm talking about the sheriff's son."

Belle nods, "Yes, his name is Henry Mills," Killian's barely even opened his mouth to interrupt before she cuts him off, "and before you ask no, I won't tell you why - it's not my story to tell."

Killian smiles, he likes this woman. She’s got this no nonsense sort of attitude that he has to admire. Belle picks up the books sitting on the counter between them to add to the nearly full cart.

"Anyway," she continues, pushing the cart out from behind the desk, "what can I help you with?"

She walks over to a shelf hidden away from the door in the back corner of the library. Killian follows her.

"Well," he scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, "I'm hoping you can help me find another copy of that book Henry lugs around with him. It's large and leather bound. I think the title is something about fairy tales ..." Killian trails off. He hadn’t realized how feeble his description of the book would sound until he began speaking.

 But it appears luck is on his side when Belle’s face lights up in recognition. "I know exactly what you're talking about," she says turning towards him. He hands her the next book off the cart, "Once Upon a Time I believe it's called."

"Yes," he says enthusiastically, placing another book in her outstretched hand, "that's it. Do you have another copy?"

"Sorry," she says, shaking her head as she shelves another tome.  "I don't know where Henry got that book, but it wasn't from me. He's shown it to me before though. I think it might be an original because there's no publishing information. I remember it specifically because I thought it was odd that the author is unnamed."

"Well thanks anyway for trying lass. Perhaps you have something on the history of this town?" Killian says with a flirtatious smile. 

Belle blushes under his gaze and Killian’s mind flashes to the sheriff. He has a feeling that the other woman won’t be quite so easy to fluster. He can't seem to get the stubborn woman out of his head ever since their meeting and now after what Belle told him, he wants to know her story and how she has a son without her name.

"Yes actually," Belle smiles and heads deeper into the library, she trails her fingers across the binding of several books before making a small pleased sound and pulling out a thin black covered book. "Storybrooke and its Place in History," she says placing the book in his hand.

"Thanks love," Killian says. He flips open the cover and is greeted by a cloud of dust.

“Sorry,” Belle says apologetically, batting away at the dust. “I guess no one’s taken that one out in a while.”

Killian waves her apology away, snapping the book shut. The front door groans loudly, alerting them both to someone else’s presence. Killian follows Belle back out to the front of the library, book clasped tightly in his good hand.

“Hello, Mr. Gold,” Belle says once they can see the patron. “Are you here to return The Crimson Thread?”

The moment Killian steps into the sightline of the new guest two things become glaringly obvious. The man is in love with the librarian, and has an immediate and unwarranted hatred of Killian.

"What're you doing here," he practically spits.

"Mr. Gold!" Belle says shocked and slightly reprimanding. Killian knew he was right to like her. "The library is open to the public, even if you and Henry seem to be the only ones to take advantage of it."

The man's expression softens immediately and he walks forward towards her, leaning heavily on his cane as he does so. "Sorry Belle,” he says, and the man probably thinks that his voice sounds sweet but gods it just grates on Killian’s nerves and he’s known the man for less than a minute.  “I'm just surprised to see someone else here, and a stranger no less." He lowers his voice to a mock whisper, "I would stay away from him if I were you, I heard he was pestering the sheriff yesterday and now he's skulking around the library..."

Killian scoffs, tucking his thumb into his belt. Mr. Gold’s eyes are black and beady and his mouth twitches into a tight line at the movement.

"I appreciate your concern Mr. Gold," Belle says placatingly, "but I can take care of myself."

The man smiles condescendingly, no doubt about to contradict the woman’s self-assuredness when Killian cuts him off, "Thank you for the book my lady," he says with a little bow, “I’m afraid I must take my leave now.” He clasps her hand in his and brings it forward. He presses his lips to it in a brief kiss, "Goodbye love." 

Killian smirks as he walks past the old man, unable to help the swagger in his stride at the open rage plastered on the other man’s face.

Killian doesn’t remember what kind of person he was, but if the way he’s acted since meeting Mr. Gold is any indication, perhaps, he wasn’t a good man. 

Killian spends the night at Granny’s again, which is apparently the only lodging in town - not that he minds the quaint little B&B and its slightly surly proprietor, but it strikes him as odd that there’s nowhere else to stay.

That night he sprawls out on the faded floral print bedding and pulls the book out of his bag. It smells musty and a bit like mothballs when he opens it, but there at least isn’t a cloud of dust this time.

The font is large on small pages and before he knows it, he’s read it from cover to cover. The history is exactly what he would expect from a small coastal town in Maine, but that's the strange thing - it’s exactly what he would expect, down to the letter. So much so that he reads it twice just to be sure he isn’t imagining things.

 Settled in the late 1800s, primary industries of fishing and boating; nothing of note really except for one sentence at the end of the book. Mayor Regina Mills elected to office and the town prospered ever since - it literally reads that; Mayor Regina Mills elected to office and the town prospered ever since.

Not only does that seem like it’s been written by Mayor Mills, whoever she is, but it doesn’t even detail how the town prospered, it just asserts, insists even that it did. That more than anything strikes Killian as odd. No date is given for the election, no names of any opponents, no explanation of what she’s done in office, nothing.

 It’s only when his eyes grow heavy and each blink is longer than the last, dim light from the sole lamp shining too brightly, that Killian closes the book and slips it into the drawer beside the bed. As Killian lies down in bed he clicks off his prosthetic and throws it on the bedside table.  His mind is racing with thoughts of fairy tales and coastal towns in Maine. And as he drifts off to sleep, the two begin to seem like one in the same.

When Killian wakes the next morning he realizes what he was too tired to notice the night before. The mayor shares a name with the sheriff's son.

After asking his waitress for directions to the mayor’s office, Killian sets out to meet the woman. As he walks up to the building he has to wonder if the mayor is still the same one as mentioned in the town history, seeing as he has no idea how long ago that was written. 

The building is large and ornate with the glass doors of the main entrance half hidden by the shrubbery surrounding it. Killian walks up the path to the doors and stumbles back from the doors as an irate sheriff comes bowling through them. 

"Woah there Swan,” he says, holding his hands out in surrender, “where's the fire?"

Her eyes are fierce and blazing when they land on him. The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver through him. "What the hell are you doing here?” she asks accusingly.

Falling back to his old faithful, he smirks at her - which is probably the dumbest idea he could have at the moment, if her murderous gaze is any indication. He sways towards her and keeps the smile in place, knowing that it doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. "I could ask you the same thing."

She rolls her eyes at him and stands her ground. "Just getting into my weekly shouting match with the mayor," she says.

He smiles again, though it's genuine this time. "An honest pursuit," he nods solemnly, "if we don't question the royals we become sheep instead of citizens."

She looks at him quizzically for a moment before huffing out a laugh and gods he doesn't know where that came from but he'll do anything to hear the sound again. "A real evil queen I suspect?" he asks.

She smiles at him and bloody hell he is a goner. He should catch her after yelling matches with Regina more often if it means he'll get both a laugh and smile out of her.

 He smiles in return and that seems to jerk her out of the amicable mood. She comes back to herself and with a rushed goodbye pushes past him to clamber into the yellow Volkswagen waiting outside.

After seeing the way Emma reacted after meeting with the mayor, Killian takes a bolstering breath before striding into the office.

The instant he steps into the room a woman leaps up from her chair. She crosses the room in three quick strides, heels clicking loudly as she does. She only stops when she’s mere inches from him; her stare is icy and intense. She reaches out a perfectly manicured hand and grabs his arm hard enough that it will surely leave half-moon marks indented into his skin, pulling him further into the office. She casts a furtive glance outside before dropping his arm to draw the curtains closed tight.

"How'd you get here?" she hisses - and he thinks, not for the first time, that this town is really against outsiders.

"Good afternoon Madam Mayor," he says pointedly. She doesn’t relent, staring at him so intensely he feels as if she’s peering into his very soul. He relents. "By car if you mean to Storybrooke, or if you're speaking of your office I walked."

Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head to the side, walking around him in a circle. The mayor stops circling him and clears her throat.

"Have we - we haven't met before have we?" she says, and though the words are a question he feels like it’s a challenge.

He shakes his head and holds out his hand, "Killian Jones," he says.

She looks at his hand with thinly veiled disdain. "Mayor Regina Mills," she says in response and turns her back to him, walking back behind her desk. "Sorry for the greeting, I have to protect my town, you know how it is." She makes a vague dismissive gesture and sits down, motioning for him to do the same. "Now what can I help you with?" The accompanying smile is almost sinister - certainly menacing - and Killian knows that any answers he’s seeking he won't dare find here.

He smiles his most charming smile and crosses his legs, tilting back in the chair, affecting a casual air. "Oh just figured I'd introduce myself to the mayor since everyone in this town seems wary of strangers."

She raises one perfectly arched brow. "Well we don't get many visitors here," she says as if that explains away all the odd reactions he's gotten since arriving in this place.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing I'm staying," Killian says, noting the flicker of distress flash across the mayor's face before the calm facade is back in place, so quick he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention.

"I guess that means I'll see you around then," she says.

"I suppose you will," Killian says, standing to leave.

Killian turns away from the woman and walks to the door, feeling her gaze hot on his back the entire way. His hand is clasped on the cool metal of the handle when her voice stops him. "Oh, and Captain," Killian looks over his shoulder to face her, and his hand tightens unconsciously on the door at her unnerving smile, "you would be wise to stay away from Mr. Gold - while you're here that is."

Killian nods, barely even hearing her as his mind spins with questions about this place. The entire walk back to Granny’s he is consumed with thoughts of the mayor and pawn broker that seem to run this town. And it's only once he's holed up in his room pouring over the town history - again, that he realizes she called him Captain - and stranger still that he answered to it.

A week passes and Killian fears his interest in this town is slowly turning into an obsession. He spends most of the week trying to unravel the secrets of Storybrooke and makes little progress. He visits the library at least thrice more, finding an odd sort of comradery with the librarian. Killian is fairly certain he's read everything in the local history section at least once. On a particularly frustrating day with no progress he even wanders into the children's section.

While the section is abandoned in the middle of a school day, Killian can picture it being quite popular with the young ones, no matter what Belle says about no one ever using the library. There's a plush chair in the corner and a faded old rug with the alphabet written along the edge. Killian walks along the low shelves, meant to be reachable by grabby little hands and looks for anything that resembles Henry's book.

After nearly twenty minutes of searching he's about to find Belle and tell her that he's given up for the day when he realizes something. He scans the shelves again, there are three waist height bookcases filled with children's books and not one has a fairytale. Killian scans the bindings once more to make sure he isn't mistaking, but he isn't. There's no Snow White, no Sleeping Beauty, not even a copy of The Princess and the Frog lining the shelves. Killian pulls out one book and finds it's a children's history textbook - no wonder Belle says the place is always deserted.

In a moment of inspiration Killian calls out to Belle to ask where the video section is. Her head appears around the corner and she gives him a halfhearted shush even though they're the only two there. "We don't have any dvds since there isn't really money to spare," she says apologetically as she leads him over toward the section where the VHS tapes are kept.

"That's alright love," he says with what he considers to be a winning smile, "I'm sure I can find a VCR someplace in this town."

She smiles at him before heading back to the circulation desk. Once Belle is gone, Killian squats down to get a better look at the lower shelving where the children's movies are kept. There's a bunch of weird movies he's never heard of and when he slips one off the shelf for a better look, he disturbs such a big a cloud of dust that he has a coughing fit for a long minute.

Killian can't remember much from his past, but he’s certain his own childhood included some Disney, at least Peter Pan or something. Yet the shelves are all but bare of the Disney classics, no Snow White, Little Mermaid, not even Hercules.

It's only after substantial digging that he spots a VHS case jammed on the floor between two shelves. He reaches his arm between them and has one panicky moment where he thinks he’s stuck before he’s able to pull the case out. It’s technically a Disney movie, but it’s The Three Caballeros, so he’s not sure if that even counts. The case is too light, and sure enough when he pops it open it’s empty.

The clock tower chimes above him, sound reverberating through the building loudly as Killian shelves the empty movie case. He didn’t even realize he’s been digging through the library almost all day. His curiosity is quickly growing into an obsession and if he was smart he would leave this town now before he gets himself in too deep here. But for some reason he finds himself metaphorically digging his feet in at the thought, unwilling to leave this place until the mystery is solved. His reason for staying is only because he’s curious about the mystery of this place and has absolutely nothing to do with the sheriff - well okay, he thinks reasonably as he finds his mind wandering to the fierce blonde once again - maybe it has a little bit to do with the sheriff.

That evening he’s sitting in the diner, trying to figure out how long he can last with what little money he has when Henry plops down on the stool next to him.

"Hello lad," Killian says amicably.

Henry turns to him with a grin and begins digging around in his book bag for a moment before pulling out the book Killian had noticed him with before. "I've got to show you something," he says with a not at all inconspicuous look over his shoulder.

He opens the book gingerly to a well-worn page near the middle. There is a drawing accompanying the flowing script on the page. It's a retelling of Snow White, one far different to any he's heard before and as he flips the pages interestedly Henry gets more and more excited in his seat. Finally the boy can’t seem to contain himself any longer and takes the book from Killian, flipping ahead to the final page.

"Look." The boy points at the drawing. There’s a babe wrapped up in a white blanket with Emma stitched into it in thick purple ribbon. "It's my mom."

Killian nods. "Oh, huh look at that," he says absentmindedly as he notices the aforementioned mother enter the diner.

"So you believe me then?" Henry asks with barely contained excitement.

"What?" Killian turns back to Henry, feeling as though he missed a vital part of the conversation.

Before the boy can respond Emma is ushering Henry to help one of the waitresses - Ruby he thinks her name is - in back. Once the lad is out of earshot she turns to him. "I know you think you're helping or something Jones - but Henry really believes what he says and I don't want to encourage him - so if you could refrain from agreeing with his outrageous stories, I'd appreciate it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says honestly.

She looks at him for a long moment before nodding once and Killian feels like he's passed some sort of test he didn't know he was taking. "Henry seems to be under the impression that everyone in Storybrooke is under a curse and I am supposed to be the savior,” Emma says, “If I meet my True Love - who has to be someone not under the curse or something then the spell will break.” She rolls her eyes at the words True Love as if even entertaining the thought is ridiculous. “And Dr. Hopper says it's just a phase - how he deals with the hand he was dealt in life - and when I thought you were encouraging him - I guess what I'm trying to say is," she huffs an exasperated breath, "what I mean is-"

"Apology accepted Swan," he says with a small smile. "Though I wouldn't say no to a drink to try to make it up to me."

She rolls her eyes and plops down on the stool next to him as Granny brings her over a mug, "Keep on dreaming, buddy."

"So why does the lad seem to think we're cursed?" Killian asked conspiratorially.

"I don't think you are included in the curse, since Henry seems to believe that no one ever comes or goes from this town." She smiles with a pointed nod towards him. "Anyway he thinks some evidence is that I'm getting older and don't have the best memory - but not to worry I definitely remember my childhood – shitty-ness and all," she says raising her mug up in a mocking toast.

"Ah it seems we do have something in common love," he says with a nudge to her shoulder, basking in the uncharacteristic openness from Emma, "I too had an awful childhood - from what I can remember anyway." She looks at him oddly then and the urge to tell someone is almost overwhelming.

"I have amnesia,” he says, “I remember some things, but it's spotty points through my childhood and fewer of my adulthood - mostly feelings more than real memories. Almost all my memories are of the sea,” he smiles a little self-consciously. “I’ve been wandering along the coast hoping to feel drawn to someplace that could perhaps shed some light on my past, but,” he shrugs, “no one here seems to remember me and I fear my memories may be well and truly lost." Killian doesn’t mention the fact that both the pawnbroker and mayor had strong reactions upon meeting him - reactions that lead him to thinking that perhaps he should stick around this town for a while longer.

Emma reaches out a hand and pats his shoulder, she doesn't give him any false hope or empty promises and he respects her for that. When Henry comes bounding out of the back of the diner with the waitress in tow she yanks her hand back away from him as though she's been burned. Killian’s heart sinks a bit in response.

"See ya around Jones," Emma says in dismissal, standing to meet her boy.

"Aye, Swan." Killian says, unsure if she hears him, but his mind is on a more important mission, one that involves a pawnbroker that may hold the key to his past.

The bell over the door chimes as he enters the pawnshop and a voice calls out from the back room, “Just a moment.”

 As his eyes adjust to the dingy, rather musty little shop Killian begins to rethink his decision to come here. After talking with Emma about her boy's belief that a forgotten past means a cursed present he'd felt compelled to seek out one of the two people in this town that reacted strongly to meeting him - but now he's questioning the sanity of this decision. Before he can chicken out Mr. Gold comes hobbling out from the back.

The man's expression, which wasn't the most welcoming to begin with, darkens considerably when his gaze falls on him. "What are you doing here dearie?" he asks, with no small amount of venom in his voice.

Killian bristles at the tone and suddenly doesn't think that asking this man about his past is such a good idea if he's having such an adverse reaction to Killian just standing in his shop. Instead of asking if they know each other, he finds himself saying, "I was looking for a gift, something small, a watch perhaps."

Mr. Gold eyes him for a long uncomfortable moment before gesturing to a display case that houses a few such items. Killian pulls up his sleeve to try one on, wondering if he'll have to buy something now since he decided against asking about his past. Mr. Gold’s sneering expression turns into outrage for a moment before it slips into a look of casual indifference. He doesn’t school his expression fast enough though, because Killian catches it and is now more convinced than ever that they know each other.

"Who is Milah?" Gold asks, nodding towards his exposed tattoo.

Killian feels a pull deep inside him at the mention of her name - painful and aching and he cannot remember her clearly - cannot recall the color of her hair or the timbre of her voice, nor how they met but he knows that he loved her. He considers saying she was just a friend, but her name is tattooed on his skin within a heart so he replies simply, "A woman I once loved."

"What happened to her?" Mr. Gold's voice is very calm and the question is spoken as if in absent minded curiosity, but Killian can tell from the tense line across his shoulders and intensity to his gaze that it is anything but. Something about this man rubs Killian the wrong way and he fears if he does not leave the shop soon he will find himself punching that condescending expression right off the other man's face.

"Illness took her," he says for lack of a better answer.

Mr. Gold's expression changes to something strange, one Killian can't name, though if he were to hazard a guess he'd say it was a mix between revulsion and utter disappointment.

 "I should be going," Killian says, placing the watch down onto the counter before turning on his heel and leaving the shop without waiting for a reply.

Killian needs to know more about Mr. Gold, and if he acts so strangely with everyone or if the man is indeed withholding information about a shared past. As he's walking away he spots the library's clock tower in the distance and knows exactly who to ask.

When Killian enters the library he isn't surprised to find it deserted. He wanders around the shelves until he spots Belle up on the ladder near the back. She smiles when she spots him and climbs down.

"Hello Killian," she says pleasantly. "Here to return that book you borrowed last week?"

Killian shakes his head and toys with his prosthetic as he speaks. "I actually am here to ask you about Mr. Gold. What do you know about him, what's his story so to speak?"

She shrugs and begins arranging books that are already perfectly in place on the shelf. "He's nice enough I guess, to me at least. Most other people in this town aren't quite fond of him, though that's because he's most of their landlords. I on the other hand am unlucky enough to have Regina be my landlord so to speak since the library is owned by the town." She shrugs again, "Why do you ask?"

Seeing as Killian is renting out a room at Granny's there isn't a reason for the animosity the man has shown him and if he isn't that way with everyone, maybe they do know each other. "Oh, no reason love, just wondering if he hated everyone or if I was special."

After her repeated assurances that Mr. Gold doesn't hate him, Killian decides to head back to Granny's to see if he can't make some headway in the town histories again.

Just as he is leaving the library he hears Emma shout and a man comes careening around the corner. Killian sticks out his foot reflexively and if that is reflex, it only makes Killian wonder more about his forgotten past. The man strikes his foot and smacks into Killian, sending them both crashing down to the pavement just as Emma comes sprinting around the corner.

She is on them in an instant, handcuffing the other man behind his back and yanking him up to stand. Killian feels a twinge in his side and gets up from the pavement slowly. Emma is already walking away with her prisoner. Killian has to jog to catch up.  

Emma glances sideways at him and walks a bit brisker when she speaks, "I had him Jones. I didn't need your help."

"Oh I believe that you are perfectly capable love," he says, "but all the same I think we make quite the team."

Killian follows them into the station. Emma searches the man quickly and thoroughly before shoving him behind bars, despite his vocal protests.

"Anyway,” Killian says flirtatiously, “perhaps gratitude is in order." He taps his lower lip with his thumb, watching as her gaze traces the movement.

"In your dreams Jones," she says, rolling her eyes in response.

"Oh you can count on that."

"Oi, what about me?" the man says, interrupting them from behind his bars.

"Well let’s see Will," Emma says as she walks towards the cell. "Stealing from Mr. Gold. Again-"

Killian shifts to lean against the desk and gasps silently at the sharp pain in his side. He lifts up the edge of his shirt and there’s blood smeared on his stomach and slowly leaking out of a small round wound. He drops his shirt quickly as Emma turns back to face him, and leans against the desk feigning nonchalance.

His hands aren’t quick enough as Emma’s gaze zeroes in on his side. She frowns as she approaches him, hands finding the edge of his shirt and sliding it up gently to reveal the pale skin beneath. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for this - if only under vastly different circumstances.

"Great job Will," Emma calls over her shoulder to the thief. "We can add maiming to the list of charges."

"I didn't mean it," the man protests loudly, "he's the one who tripped me, and the bloody hook’s sharp."

Emma ignores Will, turning her attention back to Killian. She pokes at his wound gently and he flinches.

"It's alright Swan, I'm fine," he says, trying in vain to pull away from her tight grasp.

"Who steals a hook anyway," Emma grumbles ignoring his assertions. "Hang on while I get the first aid kit okay?" She says dashing out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Once Emma is out of his way Killian’s gaze falls onto the stolen item. A gleaming metal hook rests innocuously enough on the desk; tip tinged just slightly with his own blood. The sight of it makes him feel off balance. He hasn't lost that much blood - at least he thinks he hasn't - but the world is spinning off its axis and he has to lean heavily on the desk to remain upright.

"Woah, easy Jones." Emma says as she emerges from some back room with a first aid kit. "I wouldn’t peg you the type to be squeamish around blood."

Killian's grip on the edge of the desk is the only thing keeping him standing. His knuckles are white from the force of his grip. Blood thunders through his veins as his vision darkens to black around the edges.

The sheriff's voice seems impossibly far away. "Jones," she says, with just a hint of panic in her voice. "Jones. Hey, Killian."

Killian snaps back to reality with the sound of his name. His vision is no longer tunneled and his pulse slows to its usual steady rhythm. "Sorry," he says, shaking his head to clear the last remnants of murkiness from it. “I’m fine.”

"Geez you were scaring me for a minute there Jones,” Emma says, motioning for Killian to hold his shirt aloft so she can wrap his middle with gauze. “And the cut isn't even that bad."

Her fingertips brush lightly against his skin as she passes the roll of gauze around and around. The white fabric darkens quickly at first and Emma pales.

 "Aye," Killian says, eyes glued on Emma as she focuses resolutely on her task, “tis just a scratch.”

"Anyway," she says, letting out a small sigh of relief when the patch of red stops growing. She smirks at him, "I think you'll live."

"Thank you," he says, utterly sincere, “Emma.”

She sets the gauze down on the desk behind her and it wobbles for a moment until she lets it go and it's in a moment of striking clarity that he realizes her fingers are shaking. She was worried, and about him no less.

"Right, well," Emma says, walls slamming into place as she turns her back to him dismissively. "I should get started processing old Robin Hood over there."

"Oi," Will protests. They both ignore him. 

"Of course," Killian says knowing when he's been dismissed. "I'll leave you to it."

As he's walking to the door a thought strikes him and he's voicing it before he can even think about stopping himself. "Anyway, if you need anything -”

"I know where to find you," Emma finishes with a sarcastic sort of smile, and Killian leaves the station feeling far more off balance than he had upon entering it.

A few days later Killian is sitting in a booth at Granny's with his notebook in front of him going over everything strange about Storybrooke.

• Gold’s hatred for no reason
• When questioned about past Belle provided vague answers
• Ruby only one to express desire to leave - never did
• Regina referred to me as Captain
• Town fears Regina and Mr. Gold
• Emma is Henry's mother but also isn't?

Killian taps the pen to the table top a couple times before drawing a thick black line through the last one. If he needs someone on his side with this investigation he is conducting, Emma and Henry are his best bet - so he can’t exactly be investigating them - no matter how curious he is.

A moment later Emma plops down unceremoniously in the seat across from him with a steaming mug in hand. Killian snaps the notebook shut hastily, though Emma seems not to notice.

"To what do I owe the pleasure love?" Killian asks and Emma glances up at him startled, as if just realizing he's there.

"I can't exactly hold Will in jail much longer and he still hasn't told me who put him up to stealing the hook - because someone obviously put him up to it since the thing's worthless." She sighs and takes a sip of what Killian is fairly certain is not coffee.

"Is that hot chocolate?" he asks in lieu of answering her unasked question.

"What?" she says looking up at him, "Yeah it is. But I wasn't coming over here to discuss my drink preferences -"

"Which seem to resemble those of a twelve year old," Killian says teasingly and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he second guesses himself because he doesn’t know if this is allowed, if he can do this - if he can be flirtatious and teasing with her.

"Anyway..." Emma says rolling her eyes, and maybe it's the dash of rum he added to his coffee, but he can't help smile at her in return. "I came over to ask you if Will gave you any insight as to why he stole the hook when you ran into him."

"I think you mean when I single handedly took him down," Killian corrects, jovially holding up his prosthetic.

Emma rolls her eyes at him again but from her lips twitch and he knows there's a smile trying to break free. And as much as he wants to solve the mystery of this town, it seems that he wants to solve the mystery of this woman just a little bit more - and that thought terrifies him.

 He clears his throat uncomfortably, "Yes well, I'm afraid he was yelling profanities as he fell rather than the name of the person who put him up to it."

Emma frowns, disappointed in his lack of assistance and moves to stand. Killian’s hand darts out, almost of its own accord to catch her arm. The point where his fingers touch the bare skin above her wrist feels like they are on fire. He drops her arm instantly.

"Wait Swan," he says, as she resumes her seat looking just a little thrown off and Killian wonders if she felt it too, "How did you know that Will had stolen something, did you catch him in the act?"

Emma shakes her head, "No Mr. Gold tipped me off ..." Killian can almost see the lightbulb go off above her head as she leaps up from her seat yet again - this time Killian makes to follow.

“What is it love?” he asks, throwing some money down on the table and following her as she races out of the diner. 

"I traced the call to the pay phone outside the library. How would he know his shop was being robbed if he was halfway across town?" She says, marching determinedly over to the pawn shop. Killian has to hand it to her - she's a damn good sheriff.

"So Mr. Gold hired the thief to rob himself?" Killian wonders aloud, "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," she says, pushing open the door to the pawn shop, "but I intend to find out."

The bell above the door chimes, signaling their entrance. Mr. Gold looks up from the teacup he’s polishing and smiles at them. It sets Killian’s teeth on edge.

"Can I help you Miss Swan?" he asks setting the teacup carefully on the shelf behind him.

"Cut the crap Gold," Emma says and Killian takes pleasure from the fact that she seems to find the man’s crocodile smiles abrasive as well. "We know you -"

"We?" He says, looking between Killian and Emma meaningfully. "I hadn't realized you had a vagabond on city payroll."

Killian is about to respond when Emma sidesteps in front of him and speaks first, "I hadn't realized that I missed your coronation. In case you've forgotten, I don't answer to you."

Killian doesn't even fight the urge to smile, taking far too much delight in the look of shocked outrage on the pawn broker's face. If he hadn't been so focused on the mission at hand perhaps he would have thought it odd just how much happiness the other man's suffering caused, but he is focused on the task at hand so he doesn't think about it.

"Well then Miss Swan, what is it you've come here for?" Mr. Gold's voice is a venomous warning.

Killian's fist clenches at his side as he fights the urge to cross the room and strangle the man.

"I'm here to ask why you hired someone to steal from your own shop."

The brief look of shock that flicks across the man's face is all the answer Killian needs to know that he did indeed do it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gold says, though Emma - Killian can tell - remains unconvinced.

"Why the hook? You couldn't possibly have done it for the insurance money, the thing is worthless," Killian says, no longer taking a backseat in the proceedings when the answer feels so important.

Mr. Gold's gaze is penetrating when he turns it on Killian and his eyes are just a little bit crazed. "It has sentimental value." Gold says, "You of all people should understand that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Killian asks, but Gold refuses to answer, holding out his wrists to Emma instead and Killian can't help but feel that this is all just a little bit too easy.

“Go ahead and arrest me sheriff,” he says, not even putting up a struggle as Emma snaps the handcuffs into place around his wrists.

"Wow, Jones," Emma says, leading Mr. Gold out of the pawn shop, "for having been here less than a month a lot of people in this town hate you."

Her eyes are alight with something like mischief and Killian can't bring himself to feel offended. He watches as she leads Gold back to the station.

Then when she and the pawnbroker are nearly a dozen steps away she turns over her shoulder to look at him. "Aren't you coming?"

A dazzling smile lights up Killian’s face and he jogs to catch up. He accompanies them to the station, watching in quiet contemplation as Emma processes Mr. Gold for booking. She is professional and methodical and Killian admires her for that - though if he’s being honest he’s yet to find something he doesn’t admire about Emma Swan.

Once Emma locks Gold into one of the cells and begins the paperwork accompanying an arrest Killian feels a little bit useless. He bids his farewell to Emma, completely ignoring Gold and head out of the station. It isn't until his stomach is rumbling as he enters his room above Granny's that the idea strikes him.

Not twenty minutes later he is walking back to the station with a to go bag in hand and while the idea seemed good on the way over, now that he’s standing outside of the sheriff’s station he second guesses himself.

 Putting doubts aside he kicks open the door to the station since his hand is occupied holding the bag and announces his presence with a hearty, "I come bearing refreshments Swan."

Emma is sitting at her desk with her head resting in her hands. She snaps to attention at the sound of his voice. She gives him a world weary smile and eyes the bag in his hand.

"What's all this?" she asks, watching as he sets the bag down and begins pulling out containers of food. "How'd you know I always order onion rings?" she asks.

Killian notes something in the tone of her voice, but he can't tell what exactly it is. He smiles lasciviously anyway and says, "I have my ways," with a wink.

He may have bribed Ruby for the information in exchange for helping her leave this place one day, but he’ll worry about that later.

Killian pulls up a chair to the other side of Emma’s desk and plops down taking his cheeseburger out of the bag. After a particularly large bite he nearly chokes when Emma begins her grilled cheese, making near orgasmic noises as she devours it.

 It's only after she's stolen nearly half his fries (as if he wouldn't notice) that he realizes Mr. Gold has been remarkable quiet. He turns his head to look at the jail cells and is shocked to find them empty, and even more shocked that he hadn’t even noticed.

"Where's Gold?" Killian asks, turning back to face Emma.

She groans and steals another one of his fries before answering. "Apparently our lovely mayor owed him a favor because one phone call later and it was stand down Miss Swan, you have no proof Miss Swan, Mr. Gold's an upstanding citizen and you'll release him now Miss Swan."

Killian groans in frustration, though he does have to admit she does a great impression of Regina. Emma gives him a sympathetic smile. “Didn’t realize small towns could be so political did you Jones?”

Killian shakes his head. He tries to steal an onion ring in retaliation for all his lost fries, but she thwarts him, slapping his hand away.

“And to add insult to injury,” Emma says, "apparently there's suddenly a town rule in the charter saying that there must be at least two law enforcement officials at any one time. So she's trying to get one of her little puppets into my office - Sydney Glass is a reporter, not a police officer, and I know she just wants someone to spy on me.”

"So we're back to square one," he says unnecessarily.

She nods in agreement and sighs. "Well at least we know that he did hire Will to steal it."

"Wait, you said he called from across the street from the library right love?" Killian says.

"Yeah, I tracked his call to there."

"Perhaps he wanted you to ensure you'd catch Will stealing that artifact."

Emma shakes her head at him and pops another onion ring into her mouth. "No I would've caught Will either way. This isn't a big town and Will has no means of leaving it."

Emma's eyes widen and she hits his arm across the desk in excitement. "He didn't want me to catch him - he wanted you to see Will, he was outside the library waiting for you to leave."

"You think he told Will to run that path so he'd hit me?"

Emma rolls her eyes, "I don't think literally crashing into you was part of the plan, but yes. It makes sense because he kept staring at you when we confronted him at the shop."

Killian nods in agreement, "But why would he want me to see Will stealing a hook?"

Emma shrugs, "I don't know, he said it had sentimental value, does the hook look familiar you?"

Killian thinks back to the blood thundering through his veins and tunneling vision the moment he'd laid his eyes on the hook and schools his features into a perfect mask of indifference. "No - none," he says.

Emma pops her mouth off the straw of her drink and says, "Liar," before she takes another sip.

"I've told you I can't remember much of my past," Killian says. She stares at him unrelenting and he folds, "alright so maybe it did seem familiar but I have no idea why."

"Hmm, well that'll have to be a mystery for another day, Jones." Emma says, throwing the remains of their meals in the trash. "I've got to get back home or Mary Margaret will have a heart attack."

"Mary Margaret?" Killian asks, unfamiliar with the name, wondering perhaps if this woman has something to do with Emma's son that isn't really hers.

"My roommate," she explains, pulling on her red leather jacket.

 "Ah," Killian says, making to leave as well when Emma's voice stops him.

"Killian?" she says, and other than when he was about to pass out at sight of the hook, he’s fairly certain this is the first time she's called him by his name and he likes it. "If Regina is going to force me to get a deputy I'd rather it be someone who isn't in her pocket. We do make a pretty good team," she says, holding out a badge; the silver glints under the florescent lights. "What do you say?"

He hasn't put down roots in as long as he can remember, flitting from place to place always hoping that the next horizon will hold the key to his past. He is just passing through this strange place. He isn't meant to stay - to have anything tying him here - but as he looks at Emma he finds himself smiling and stretching out his hand to reach for the badge. "Aye," he says "a damn good team."

It's strange how quickly he and the sheriff fall into a routine. With all his bluster about being a good team, he can't help but acknowledge that it's true; they really are a good team. He comes in with Granny's breakfast most days and pretends to care that she always takes the last bear claw. They take turns answering phones and dealing with the calls about the petty disturbances that always seem to occur in small towns like this. Best of all, Killian knows that the more time they spend in one another’s company the more he is slowly breaking past Emma's defense mechanisms.

And one day almost two weeks after he started working as a deputy, Mary Margaret comes in after school lets out and Killian gets to meet Emma’s best friend. 

"Mary Margaret this is Killian Jones my deputy," Emma says standing up to take her dinner break with the other woman. "Jones, Mary Margaret."

Killian stands and stretches out his hand for Mary Margaret to take. Her grasp is surprisingly strong for such a petite woman and her smile is broad as she speaks. "Oh," she says, "so you're Killian."

Killian quirks an eyebrow at the woman and dares a sidelong glance at Emma who is turning a delightful shade of pink. "Talk about me often, do you Swan?" he says because he's an asshole at heart. She glares at him and Mary Margaret both.

"Mary Margaret is notoriously bad at keeping secrets," she says slipping into her jacket. Her eyes widen a moment later and she hastily adds, "Not that talking about you is a secret - or that we talk about you at all. Anyway we'll be leaving now," she says rushing out the door and he can't hold back a little self-satisfied smile as he watches her go.

He's lazily twisting his prosthetic in and out of place, click click. click. click. Killian knows it loosens the mechanism holding the false hand in place but it's a habit when he's bored - and without Emma the job really is quite boring. It's almost as soon as the thought forms that the phone rings and he shouldn’t be thankful for someone needing police assistance, but the distraction is welcome all the same.

The man on the other end of the phone is frantic. The line cuts in and out; Killian has a hard time understanding him. The only thing he gathers from the call is that there’s an intruder in the caller’s home.

Once he's sure he's heard the address properly he calls Emma as he gets into the squad car. She picks up on the first ring. "What is it Jones?"

"I'm headed to the mansion near the town's edge owned by Jefferson," Killian says, flicking the switch to have the lights flash, though he holds off on the sirens. "There's an active intruder situation there now."

"Hang on, hang on," Emma says, "Wait for me alright?" Killian hears something crash in the background. "Jefferson has a couple screws loose and you shouldn't go there without backup."

Killian, jerk that he is turns on the siren, "Sorry Swan," he says, "can't hear you." The phone clicks audibly as he turns it off. He throws it in the passenger seat, speeding towards the mansion on the outskirts of town.

The sun is sinking low in the sky, dipping below the horizon as Killian pulls into the long driveway. The dense foliage surrounding it shrouds the house in darkness. Killian climbs the front steps to the porch two at a time. The door is wide open and a beam of light streams onto the porch. Killian steps into the entryway cautiously with his hand hovering above the gun at his belt. He wants to call out to Jefferson and let the man know he's here, but he's afraid of alerting the intruder to his presence. He remains quiet as he steps into the house.

Just seconds after he passes the open door something hard and heavy hits him in the back of the head and the world goes black. When he comes to, he’s sitting on an unforgiving cold metal chair and there’s warm sticky blood dripping down the back of his neck. His arms are twisted behind him uncomfortably and tied together intricately. His legs are tied to the chair and he gags around the wadded up cloth stuck in his mouth.

He makes a noise, half groan half yell when a man comes into his line of vision. He would be ordinary enough if not for the half-crazed look in his eyes and if this is Jefferson, Killian suddenly knows what Emma meant by unhinged.  Killian tries to speak through the gag, but it comes out garbled.

"Oh sorry about that," the man says, walking towards him. "Didn't want you to wake up screaming. I’ll remove it if you promise you won't yell."

 Killian nods, eyes scanning the room as inconspicuously as possible for escape routes.

Killian swallows thickly once the gag is removed and his voice is hoarse when he speaks, "are you Jefferson?"

"Oh and he got it on the first try," the man says, pacing the room in small compact circles, eyes flicking over to Killian every few moments.

"And you're Killian Jones, Captain of the high seas."

"I have no idea what you're talking about mate," Killian says, twisting his arms behind his back, trying to see if he can pop off his prosthetic.

"Oh don't worry, you will soon enough," Jefferson stops before him, face uncomfortably close to Killian's. Even though he wants to lean away, Killian stays his ground and meets Jefferson's gaze challengingly. "Everyone in this town is cursed - everyone except for you. You have to help the savior break it."

"Have you been spending too much time with Henry?" Killian asks scathingly.

Jefferson smiles, though it looks more like he’s baring his teeth as he steps back from Killian. "You think I'm mad?" Jefferson laughs loudly, the sound reverberating through the empty house. "That's nothing new my friend; I was called the Mad Hatter in our land."

"What like Alice in Wonderland?" Killian scoffs.

He’s finally able to twist enough so his fingers can get a grip on the wrist of his prosthetic. He’s about to pop it off when he realizes the house is silent, enough so that the click would be audible. By the time he could slip out of the ropes he’ll have lost the element of surprise.

With his legs still bound he needs surprise to get the upper hand, he’ll have to wait until Jefferson leaves the room at this rate. He keeps a deathly tight grip on the prosthetic wrist, afraid that if he lets go he'll be unable to twist enough to reach it again.

"And am I from this land of yours?" he asks, straining from the effort of twisting his arms enough to keep the grip.

Jefferson nods, "At first I thought you were just a stranger passing through, but that didn't seem right, no one ever passes through here. I knew you must be from our land. Then I saw your hand there and knew," Jefferson nods his head towards Killian's fake hand.

"Plenty of people are missing limbs mate," Killian says, knuckles turning white as he fights to keep his grip on said hand behind his back. His fingers are beginning to slip, slick with sweat.

"No," Jefferson shakes his head almost violently. "No I know you - you worked for the queen - I know you did." Jefferson pulls his arm out from behind his back and he has scissors clasped tightly in his hand. He swings his arms wildly as he speaks, scissors coming alarmingly close to Killian’s face.

"Alright," Killian acquiesces, "fine I worked for the queen."

"No, no, no, no. Nothing will work unless you believe it." Jefferson begins pacing again. "You are Captain Hook, you are a pirate, you worked for the queen," Jefferson says, again and again almost to himself.

Killian’s vision tunnels and he lets the prosthetic slip from his fingers, knowing the pressure from the odd angle of his arms is going to make him pass out if he doesn't let go.

"And she must have let you escape the curse because you pleased her,” Jefferson says “or something, I don't know. But only someone who isn't cursed can help Emma save the town."

Killian's gaze snaps to Jefferson and his blood runs cold. If Jefferson needs him, well - he's been in tighter spots before, or at least he thinks he has, but Emma - he shakes his head expelling the thought before it can even fully form. And she is on her way here now, or at least she should be since Killian called her - but how long was he knocked out for, shouldn't Emma already be here?  "Emma, what does Emma have to do with this?" Killian asks.

"Everything.” Jefferson breathes with more devotion than a priest. Killian leans back away from the intensity of his gaze. “Don't you get it?" Jefferson asks, jumping to stand before Killian. "She has everything to do with this, she's the savior."

"Alright," Killian says, just trying to keep Jefferson talking. "So let's say the town is cursed and Emma is the savior. What does that mean? Who is she in your realm?"

"Our realm," Jefferson corrects. "She is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming - prophesied as the savior."

There's a crashing noise from outside and Killian speaks loudly trying to mask it. He hopes that it’s Emma coming to his rescue.  "Snow White's daughter, I don't know I've ever heard that version before. Wouldn't she be just a babe?" Killian's stalling, but luckily Jefferson's excitement at him listening is enough to keep his focus. There’s a quiet creak as a door opens and closes and Killian holds his breath, hoping Jefferson doesn’t hear it.

"Yes!" Jefferson says, "She should be, but it's been 28 years."

"You're looking good on it then," Killian says, listening to the soft creaking of floorboards growing closer.

"Time was frozen," Jefferson says as though it's obvious, "everyone except for Emma stopped aging."

Killian hears the footsteps growing closer and he's worried that Jefferson will hear them too. He just needs to keep the man talking. "So tell me, how do I break the curse."

"You don't break it, Emma does - the first step is getting her to believe."

There's a loud bang from the hall and Jefferson whips his head around to the noise. He shoves the gag back into Killian's mouth and runs after the noise. Killian can only hope that Emma is faster. He twists in his chair trying to get a grip on his hand again when Emma appears before him. Relief washes over him. 

She crouches down in front of him, eyes wide as she pulls the gag from his mouth and begins untying his hands. Once his hands are free she tells him to untie his feet, before racing after the mad man. Killian frees himself and rushes upstairs to where there’s commotion and he knows they must be struggling. Just as he reaches the landing Emma comes out of one of the rooms and looks at him in shock.

"He jumped out of the window," she shakes her head and walks closer to him, "the nutter jumped out the fucking window and is gone - he just disappeared."

Killian rubs at the joint where his prosthetic meets flesh. The skin is raw from the bindings and the way he'd held it. Emma’s eyes zero in on it. She steps forward and runs her fingers over his wrists, the touch is feather light and barely there but it still manages to send a shiver up his spine.

"Are you okay?"

Killian nods. "Fine, love. Though I do appreciate the dashing rescue." While his voice is playful he can't keep the sincerity out of his eyes.

She pulls her hands away from where they're lingering on his wrists and smacks him in the shoulder a little too hard to be completely joking. "If you'd waited for me in the first place I wouldn't have had to rescue you."

"Well who am I to deprave you of an opportunity to show off your," he pauses and licks his lips flirtatiously, trying to get back on the familiar ground that feels like it was pulled out from underneath him, "skills."

She rolls her eyes and starts walking downstairs, "Come on Jones," she says, "let's get out of here. This place freaks me out."

They drive back to Granny's where Emma's half eaten meal has grown cold and Mary Margaret is long gone. They end up tucked in the booth in the far back corner, Emma nursing a hot chocolate and digging into her second order of onion rings of the evening - which Killian graciously paid for since he - is the reason I didn't get them in the first place Jones. And Killian orders a burger occasionally stealing an onion ring because I did pay for them love.

"So what did Jefferson even want?" Emma asks eventually and Killian contemplates hiding the true reason of his kidnapping for only a moment before he resolves to tells her.

"He seems to believe the town is cursed -" he holds up a hand to stop Emma from interrupting him, "he had no idea about Henry's book - I asked and the man seemed truthful. He also thinks that if I can get you to believe the curse will be broken since you are apparently the savior."

Emma laughs brusquely. "I told you he had a screw or two loose."

"Aye, you were right love," Killian says leaning forward across the table so that their faces are less than a hairsbreadth from one another.  "Anyway, I never did get a chance to say thank you love."

She leans back away from him and takes a sip of her hot chocolate, which by now must surely be cold. "Did you really think I'd let you die - or be maimed anyway."

Killian laughs and tilts back in his seat, "Given our history,” he shrugs, “do you blame me?"

She smiles and his heart twinges in response. "So who was Jefferson in this cursed version of reality? Edward Scissorhands?"

Killian smiles and steals another one of Emma's onion rings, earning a halfhearted slap on the hand, "The Mad Hatter of course."

"Is it weird that I think that actually makes sense?" she says with a self-deprecating scoff.

"No, just a sign of you falling into the delusions as well, nothing to worry about Swan," he says and this is the longest they've had a conversation that isn't directly related to work and he's feeling high off it.

Killian takes a sip from the flask he keeps tucked away in his pocket and Emma holds out her hand for it. "So who are you in this other land then?" she asks, taking a hearty swig from his flask.

Killian watches as her tongue darts out to catch a wayward drop of rum and finds himself momentarily hypnotized. "Ah, who do you think love?" he says, trying to detract from the way his eyes linger - it's not the same when it's out of his control as when he's doing it deliberately and he feels decidedly off balance. He raises his fake hand as if in answer to her question and she smiles, handing the flask back from him.

"Captain Hook, really? Couldn't be a bit more creative?"

Killian smiles and takes another swig from his flask, relishing the warmth seeping through him. "Aye, it is rather obvious isn't it? I'd make a much better Prince Charming don’t you think? Then you could be my Sleeping Beauty." He smiles at her flirtatiously and winks, trying not to think too hard about the possibility of a fairytale romance with her for fear of falling victim to a madman's ravings.

Emma rolls her eyes and Killian doesn't feel quite so off balance anymore. "I'm pretty sure Prince Charming is with Snow White, not Sleeping Beauty. Which would make you my father according to Henry." Emma smiles in good humor. Killian can't help but smile in return.

"According to Jefferson as well - it is a bit odd that they both have the same theory." Thinking on it, Killian wonders just how exactly they both seem to suffer from the exact same delusion.

"Jefferson must've heard Henry talking about it - Henry does love that book." Emma says, motioning to Ruby for the check, "I'll have to tell Mary Margaret to keep an eye out for him lurking by the school."

"Night Jones," Emma says, and if Killian isn't mistaken, it seems there's just a bit more friendliness to that phrase then there was just this morning.

"Goodnight Emma," he says as she stands, "and I stand by what I said before."

"And what's that?" She asks, pulling on her jacket.

"We make quite the team."

Emma tries to bite back a smile but he can see it breaking free as she leaves. "Goodnight Jones," she calls over her shoulder.

Aye, he thinks, good indeed.

And it isn't until he's lying in bed, half asleep with thoughts of fairy tales and pirate captains dancing through his head that he remembers the item stolen from Gold's shop was a gleaming metal hook.

Henry comes into the station after school a few days later when Killian is working by himself.

"Your mom is off today lad," Killian says upon the boy’s entrance.

"I know," Henry says with a smile, plopping down in the chair across from Killian. "I'm here to see you. I wanted to ask if you'll take me sailing tomorrow?"

Killian smiles. "This wouldn't be an attempt to see if I'm Captain Hook would it?"

A flush creeps its way up Henry’s cheeks. "Well that's not the only reason. I kind of want to learn to sail too."

"Sure lad, if it's alright with your mother it's fine with me."

"Which mother?" Henry asks, scuffing his shoe against the linoleum. "Cause I'm pretty sure Emma would say yes and Regina would say no."

"As long as you can get one of them to say yes," Killian says. Even though he and Emma have worked together for almost a month now, Killian still hasn't broached the topic of Henry's parentage yet - and Henry's statement is as confusing as ever. "You live with Regina though, aye?"

Henry nods solemnly. Killian is beyond curious but if Henry isn't forthcoming with information he feels like he'd be betraying Swan by prying.

"So I'll meet you on the docks tomorrow then?" Henry asks, moment of seriousness forgotten.

"Aye," Killian agrees, "now you'd best run off home since I'm sure your mother is worried about you."

Henry gives him a look, but turns to leave with a little wave. Killian is a selfish bastard really, because he'd been hoping to get a chance to spend some time alone with the boy and pick his brains about this curse. It isn't a burden for him to take the boy sailing at all - first he'll just have to learn how to sail.

After taking out every book on sailing the night before, Killian is not at all confident in his ability to take the boy, but he finds himself at the docks the next morning nevertheless. How hard can it be, he thinks as he waves at Henry and Emma's approach.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Emma asks eyeing the rather large ship behind him.

"Aye," he says confidently.

Emma looks at him skeptically. "Wear your life vest Henry," she says in lieu of a response.

Once aboard and behind the wheel Killian is thankful he read all those books because his instincts kick in, and it actually isn't that hard - hell, he'd say he's a natural. Henry takes to it quickly as well, busy about the ship under Killian's orders and soon they're out to sea, Emma's yellow bug no more than a spec on the shore.

Killian calls Henry up to the wheel, and points to a metal plaque with a compass inset and the letters P and S engraved on it to explain port from starboard. The wave of déjà vu is so strong he sways on his feet for a moment.

"Are you alright?" Henry asks, peering up at him.

"Aye," Killian says shaking his head, "Aye, I'm fine. Want to try your hand at steering, lad?"

Henry's eyes light up as he takes ahold of the wheel and Killian can't shake the feeling that he's been here before, that he's done this before. Perhaps, he thinks, as Henry turns the wheel just a little too sharply before correcting himself, sailing may be a part of the memories he's missing.

"I'm glad I didn't tell Regina I was coming here," Henry says suddenly. "She never would've let me come."

"And your father?" Killian asks eventually because he assumes there must be at least one with two mothers.

Henry shrugs and looks out onto the water. "I never met him. He died when I was just a baby. That's how I ended up living with Regina. "

Killian looks down at the lad, "I'm not following," he says, trying not to pry the story from the boy, but curious none the less.

Henry's gaze remains steadfast on the sea. When he speaks the words are quiet, as if the story can only be told as a whisper light enough to be carried away on the wind. "My dad arrested my mom - Emma - for stealing from Granny's when she was younger. Granny dropped the charges and my dad was a kind, good man," he says with such surety in his voice that Killian knows he must've been told this many times, "and realized that my mom was only stealing 'cause she had no food or anything. She'd just gotten out of foster care and had nowhere to go - so my dad hired her at the station - he was sheriff.

"She was only supposed to do paperwork and boring stuff at first," Henry smiles for the first time since he's started this story and glances up at Killian briefly. "But she was so good he ended up making her his deputy. Anyway," Henry shrugs, smile gone, "they worked together for a long time and they fell in love and my mom got pregnant with me.”

For a boy so enamored with fairy tales he tells his own parents’ story with clinical detachment. “She and my dad were really happy and then when I was only like three months old my other mom got jealous and killed my dad and took me from my real mom so I live with Regina now." Henry shrugs and looks back out onto the water.

While the beginning of the story sounded true to Killian, he’s fairly certain Henry fabricated the end. "So why isn't Regina in jail if she killed your father and kidnapped you?" he asks, not unkindly. 

"Because she's the Evil Queen and she is the one who cursed everyone. Plus she killed Graham with magic so she made it look like he had a heart attack - he was only twenty-two," Henry says as if this is enough definitive proof to have the woman executed. "Then she changed everyone's memories so that they thought my mom had shoplifted again and sent her to jail saying she was unfit to be a mother so Regina adopted me."

Killian nods sagely. It’s easy enough to discern what’s true from Henry’s version of events, but he makes a mental note to ask Emma the next time she seems to be in a talkative mood. "I see," Killian says, unsure what else to say as he shifts the wheel over Henry's grip so that they're heading back to shore.

"So that's why you have to break the curse!" Henry says. "You have to bring back my mom's happy ending so that she can bring back everybody else's happy endings."

Ah so that's the real business behind this whole curse business, Killian thinks, Henry wants to find happiness for his mother again after his father's death. "I don't know much about curses," Killian says softly, unsure just when he started enjoying this lad's company quite so much. "But I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to bring your mother her happy ending."

Henry's grin is brilliant and contagious. And they’re both still smiling when they dock again nearly twenty minutes later.

Emma walks up to meet them; three Granny's to go cups balanced precariously in her hands. "How'd it go?" she asks, handing them each a container.

"We had a lovely time Swan," Killian says taking a sip of what is most definitely hot chocolate and he bites his lip, unable to wipe the dopey grin from his face. "Your boy's a natural, love."

Henry beams under the praise and hugs his mom. "It was great!" he says, "Thanks so much for letting me come, Mom."

Emma smiles and Killian can see the surprise in her eyes as she meets his. "Remember your manners Henry," she says, "thank Mr. Jones for taking you."

"Thanks Captain," Henry says saluting him before bounding over to the car.

Emma smiles at him, swaying forwards a little. "I wanted to thank you Killian, I'm sure you made Henry's day."

Killian leans forward as well, close enough that he can feel each puff of her breath fan across his face. "It's my pleasure Swan," he says, "though perhaps gratitude is in order," he taps his lips flirtatiously and while she looks bit surprised and scoffs quietly, he swears she's about to lean in not away when Henry's voice has then jumping away from one another.

"Mom, are you coming?" he calls, "before Regina notices you didn't take me to the library?"

"Coming Henry," Emma says, walking towards her car, turning over her shoulder once more, "Thanks again Killian."

They're sitting together in the station the next day working together in silence when Killian can't take it anymore. "Hey, Swan?" he says.

"Mmhm?" she responds without looking away from her paperwork.

"Henry was saying something yesterday that didn't make much sense - about his father."

Emma looks up abruptly then, face completely unreadable. "What'd he say?" she asks in such a measured tone that Killian knows she's trying very hard to keep any emotion from seeping into it.

Killian shrugs and twists a pencil back and forth between his fingers. "Something about Regina murdering him and jailing you so she could steal Henry."

Emma groans and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "I hope he doesn't say anything like that around Regina or she'll be even stricter about him spending time with me - because you can be sure she'd find a way to blame me for this."

"If you don't mind my asking love, what did happen?"

She looks at him for a long moment before speaking. "Graham was sheriff, he arrested me for shoplifting and ended up giving me a job," she laughs a little sadly to herself and her eyes are far away, lost in memory.

 "Anyway," she continues brusquely, "long story short we fell in love and I got pregnant. For the first time in my life things seemed to be going good and I should've known that wasn't in the cards for me." She shrugs self-deprecatingly and Killian wants to reach out for her but refrains, afraid to spook her out of this surprisingly talkative mood of hers.

"Henry was only three months old when Graham died - of a heart attack - not murder,” she adds with a roll of her eyes. “I was young, alone, and had a record. Child protective services convinced me that giving Henry up would be his best chance - that keeping him would be the selfish thing to do and I stupidly believed them. Regina ended up adopting him but since it was an open adoption I still get to see him." She looks up at him and smiles sadly, "I regret that decision every day - but it's one I have to live with - one Henry has to live with."

Killian reaches across their desks and touches her hand gently. He tries to hide his surprise when she doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry, Swan," he says, feeling that it's nowhere near enough.

That night he has a nightmare. A faceless man who he knows is the dead sheriff, in the way that one seems to know such things in dreams, is standing before Regina. She’s dressed in an elaborate black dress with a plunging neckline and Killian thinks she looks more like a queen than a mayor.

The man screams in utter agony, face contorted in pain as Regina plunges her hand deep into his chest. She yanks her arm back and holds his still beating heart in her hand. The queen gives it an experimental squeeze and the sheriff grunts, refusing to yell again.

The heart throbs in her hand, pulse quick and erratic but the man doesn’t bend, doesn’t kneel. He stares at her in defiance, refusing to beg. And Killian has to respect the man who doesn’t waver even as the queen’s nails dig into his heart.

Sorry, she says looking not sorry at all, but you weren't supposed to fall for her - you weren't supposed to remember.

The sheriff lunges forward, arms outstretched towards his heart in Regina’s hand, but he’s not quick enough. In one swift movement the queen squeezes and the man drops to the floor, heart crushed until it’s nothing more than a pile of ash on the floor. Killian's scream echoes with Graham’s long after his heart stops beating.

Suddenly Killian is on-board a ship. There's a woman collapsed on the deck before him and her heart is in his hand. He squeezes, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his fingers. He can’t control his hand as it begins to close tighter around the fist and the woman cries out. Killian grunts with the force of trying to open his fist then with the force of a rubber band snapping his grip turns harder and the heart in his hand turns to ash.

He calls out in agony as the woman before him dies, and when he’s done crushing her heart his hand is crushed too until there's nothing left. He screams again as the blunt end of a hook from the rigging is forcefully jabbed into the end of his wrist. Gold is there, laughing, laughing - god why won't he stop laughing. Killian sinks the hook into the flesh of the man's neck and wakes up with tears in his eyes and a scream half formed on his lips. 

The next day he feels off kilter. When he passes Mr. Gold in Granny's he feels hatred bubble up within him and struggles for a moment to push it down. If he didn't know any better he'd say that Mr. Gold saw the murderous rage on his face and answered it with a fucking smile. He's still struggling with rage and hatred pumping through his veins when he walks into the station, nearly throwing a to go cup at Emma before stomping over to his desk.

"What's got your panties in a twist," Emma asks, peeling the lid off of her hot chocolate to release the steam.

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbles, burying his nose in paperwork and hoping that she'll let it go, and she does - for a while.

Her attempts at making conversation throughout the morning fall flat and he knows that he's being rude but he can't seem to muster up the energy to respond to her innocent queries about the weather, what he's doing later, if he saw that movie that one time. His answers are one worded at most and by the time Henry stops in after school both of them are in a mood.

"Hi mom, Killian," Henry calls as he enters the station.

Emma and Killian both respond with little enthusiasm but that doesn't dissuade the boy from sitting down between their desks and spinning in a chair.

Henry begins telling a story about his school day when he stops abruptly and looks between them. "Are you guys fighting?" he asks, with far too much knowledge in his voice for a ten year old.

"No," Killian answers the same moment Emma says, "Ask him."

Henry looks between the two of them before scooting his wheelie chair over to Killian. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," Killian says brusquely, not looking up from his paperwork.

Henry isn't easily dissuaded though and after only just so much pestering Killian finally meets the boy's gaze and caves. "I had a strange dream last night that left me feeling off kilter today. That's all lad."

"Oh sure you tell him after ten minutes," Emma grumbles from her desk, "When you were pissy with me all day."

"Well that's because I like him more than you Swan," he says, smiling for the first time that day.

"What was the dream about," Henry asks, leaning forward in his chair so far Killian fears it'll tip over.

Killian is about to deflect again when a look from Henry - that's eerily close to his mother's - causes him to change his mind. He isn't going to tell the part about Henry's father's death, or the part about him having a hook for a hand since Emma is already worried about Henry believing in the crazy fairytales, so instead he settles for saying, "In my dream Mr. Gold wanted to kill me, and it felt real so when I woke up this morning and saw Mr. Gold in Granny's it just put me in a bad mood, I apologize for dragging you down with me," he adds turning to Emma.

"Maybe you and Mr. Gold were enemies in the other realm - he did have a lot of them," Henry pipes up.

"Henry," Emma says gently, "wouldn't it be in your book if Killian and Mr. Gold were enemies?" she says clearly trying to use logic against him.

"But mom, Killian isn't in my book," he says as if that's the answer to everything.

"Then how do you know he's Captain Hook?" she asks, and Killian has to bite back a smile because she says it with such confidence like she's certain she’s outwitted the boy this time.

"Because he's missing a hand," Henry says, lifting up his own, "duh."

"Henry!” Emma chastises him.

Killian's bad mood that had been brewing within him all day breaks and he lets out a guffaw, "it's okay Swan," he says, standing and ruffling Henry's mop of dark hair. "Henry helped me get in a better mood, so really I should be thanking him."

"You could thank me by coming over and watching Peter Pan with me and my mom tonight." Henry says with a grin that can only be described as shit-eating.

Emma looks unimpressed with Henry's antics, "Henry I'm sure Killian is busy -”

"I'd love to come," Killian says, "if it's alright with you of course, Swan." Killian's heart thumps unevenly as he waits for an answer. His hopes are already up at the prospect of spending the evening with his two favorite people in this town, and just when did Emma and her boy become his favorite people he wonders.

"Sure," Emma says as though surprised by his answer, or maybe she's surprised by her own, but either way he finds himself smiling. "Why not?"

Twenty minutes later the three of them are squished together on Emma and Mary Margaret's rather small sofa. Mary Margaret is off volunteering at the hospital, getting it ready for her class visit tomorrow, according to Henry. Killian has to admire the woman for not only bringing her class of fifth graders to the hospital on a field trip, but spending her free time there as well.

Henry is sitting next to Killian, a physical buffer between himself and Emma, but if he stretches his arm out across the back of the couch he could surely reach Emma's shoulders. Killian grins at the knowledge, but he decides against it since he wants to stay for the film and there’s no need to push his luck.

The first time Captain Hook appears onscreen Killian can feel Henry's penetrative gaze on him. "Lad," Killian says, turning away from the mustached buffoon on screen, "couldn't you have picking someone a bit more," he winks at Emma, "devilishly handsome."

Emma rolls her eyes and speaks before Henry has the chance. "No," Emma says, "I think he's got you pegged Jones, bumbling idiot with ridiculous fashion sense."

"Ha ha," he says mock teasingly. "You're so funny Swan, Henry tell your mother that -"

"Shhh," Henry says seriously. "This is the best part."

Killian glances at Emma over Henry's head and the two share a private grin. And Killian's heart swells because he could get used to this.

The movie is different than he remembers, very different actually. Killian doesn't voice it though, because if he told Henry that the way he remembers the movie is with Pan as the villain and himself the protagonist - Hook, Hook as the protagonist - it would only provide more cannon fodder to the boy’s delusions. When the end credits roll Henry is fast asleep, head lolling on Emma's shoulder, even though it's not yet seven.

"I wish I didn't have to wake him," Emma says after a moment, gaze on Henry who is drooling lightly on her shoulder.

"So don't," Killian shrugs, "I can carry him to his bed if you want, or he could always sleep on the couch tonight."

Emma looks up at him sharply and the friendliness of the afternoon is gone in an instant replaced by cold, false indifference. "I don't have custody, remember?" she says sharply. "I have to take him back to Regina's or she'll blow a gasket and find a way to get me evicted or something." Emma whispers the last part, as if she doesn't want Henry to overhear the harsh words about his other mother, but her fears are in vain since the boy is out like a light.

"Right," Killian says uncomfortably, scratching behind his ear as Emma gently rouses the boy. "I could walk him back if you'd like."

"Oh can he, Mom?" Henry asks, suddenly wide awake, and if it weren't for the drool slipping out of his mouth a moment ago Killian would think that the lad had been faking it.

"I don't want to put you out..." Emma begins, glancing towards the clock.

"It's no bother," he says, shrugging into his jacket. "Really. I have to walk past the mayor's to get to Granny's anyway."

Henry pouts towards Emma as he pulls on his shoes. "Please?" he says.

Emma nods, "Alright," she says, "make sure he gets there safely, okay, Jones?"

"Of course," Killian says, as Henry whoops with barely restrained glee.

Henry, Killian learns on the 4.7 minute long journey, is quite the chatter box. Without the tasks of the ship to occupy his hands it seems the boy's mouth makes up for it. Killian can't help but smile as Henry shares every thought that seems to pop into his head. No matter his belief that his mother is the Evil Queen, his view of the world is certainly rose tinged. Henry is finishing a story - which Killian isn't quite sure he believes because it involves someone babysitting him when he was five that is his age now - that’s got both of them laughing as they walk up the long path leading to the mayor's home.

The door swings open and light spills out onto the porch, blinding Killian for a moment. Regina steps onto the porch and the smile disappears immediately from Henry's face. "Where've you been Henry?" she asks brusquely.

Henry says a quick thanks to Killian and ignores his mother’s question, darting past her into the house.

"Don't be too hard on the lad," Killian says, not wanting Henry to get into trouble because of him. "It's my fault he's coming home late."

Her eyes whip to him and he is sure that a lesser man would cower beneath her penetrating gaze. "And why was Henry with you?" she asks.

"He felt my Disney knowledge was lacking," she stares at him blankly and he steps forward into the light. He isn't afraid to use his charm to his advantage. "We just watched a movie lass, no harm done."

Her gaze grows darker, if anything, and Killian finds it difficult to fight the urge to take a step back. "What movie?" her voice is just a little bit too smooth and emotionless to be natural.

Killian feels the urge to lie - but that’s ridiculous, Peter Pan is a children's movie, not exactly inappropriate for a ten year old. "Peter Pan," he answers, watching her closely.

"Oh how lovely," she says. The movement is subtle, but Killian doesn’t miss the way her eye twitches and jaw hardens. "While you may be willing to take the fall, please tell Miss Swan that Henry is my son and I choose what he can and cannot watch - and he shouldn't be out so late on a school night." Her voice grows progressively angrier as she speaks and by the time she’s done talking, she’s nearly shouting.

"Duly noted, your majesty," Killian says mockingly under his breath.

"What did you just call me?" she asks with barely contained rage.

"Nothing," Killian says, turning to leave, words still heavy on his tongue.

The next day Henry comes bursting into the station with a grin on his face interrupting Killian as he’s pretending to work.

"Mom, Killian!" he says breathlessly as though he ran there all the way from school.

"What is it Henry?" Killian asks as Emma takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

"I found Prince Charming!"

Emma inhales sharply and chokes on her drink, spluttering and red faced by the time she gets her breathing under control. "What?"

Killian laughs out loud as he realizes what Emma is thinking. "Henry, you mean the prince from your story book, right?"

"Yeah," he nods enthusiastically, pulling the book out from his backpack. "He is in a coma at the hospital, but I'm sure it's him."

"Oh," Emma says with dawning understanding, "oh you meant - from the book - oh. Not that if you meant something other than the book I wouldn’t be - I mean it’s okay if you - I was just surprised -"

"See," Henry says cutting Emma off, oblivious to his mother’s rambling. He pulls open the book to a page about halfway through and points to the image of a prince in knightly armor on it. "Look it's John Doe from the hospital - I know it is."

"Henry, John Doe isn't his name," Emma begins to explain, before stopping herself at the futility of it when Henry begins flipping pages.

"And look, Miss Blanchard and John Doe are putting you in the wardrobe here mom," Henry says with growing excitement. "You've finally found your family."

Killian shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He feels as though he's intruding in a moment Emma would rather handle alone, but he doesn't want to call attention to himself by standing. He remains seated uncertainly.

"You're my family, Henry," Emma says, "You know that."

Henry continues as though he didn’t hear her. "Do you think Miss Blanchard will kiss him to wake him up?"

Killian smiles, "Probably not lad."

Henry frowns, "Yeah, you're right. Plus True Love's Kiss doesn't work with memory loss anyway," he hits himself in the forehead. "What was I thinking? Hey wait, maybe if Miss Blanchard reads their story to him he'll wake up and remember!"

"Henry..." Emma begins.

"Swan, can I see you in the back office love?" he asks, interrupting her.

She looks like she's about to argue, but he keeps his gaze steady on hers and after a long moment relents. She stands and follows him into what's technically her office, though she tends to sit out in the main area more often than not.

"Okay you want to tell me what's going on?" she says once they shut the door.

Killian glances through the glass at Henry pouring over his book. "Why don't we let the lad ask Mary Margaret to do it?"

"What?" Why?" Emma interrupts before he can explain. "What the hell Killian? Do you want to feed his delusions?"

"No," he shakes his head, "no of course not Swan, I'm just saying that he'll be forced to confront reality if it doesn't work, and well,” he shifts under her hard gaze but refuses to waver, “what are the odds that it does?"

He can tell Emma is surprised by his insight even though she tries not to show it. “Yeah, okay,” she says and turns to walk back out to Henry before he has a chance to respond.

She tells Henry they can try it if Mary Margaret is willing. The boy is ecstatic. With a hasty phone call to prep Mary Margaret, the woman readily agrees when she stops by the station just over an hour later. Mary Margaret leaves shortly after with Henry’s book in tow and both Emma and Henry seem particularly buoyant - though for vastly different reasons.

It’s a little while after Mary Margaret leaves that Killian and Emma leave the station with Henry to grab a bite at Granny's. They don’t have much longer with the lad before he’ll surely be missed, when Mary Margaret comes running into the diner breathlessly. Her eyes scan the room frantically before her gaze settles on their group tucked away in the back corner.

Mary Margaret rushes over to their table and plops down on the edge of the booth practically in Killian’s lap before he even has the chance to scooch over. Her nervous excitable energy is practically a visible aura around her and Killian feels on edge just from being seated next to her.

"Mary Margaret," Emma says slowly, already preparing Henry for a letdown, "How did it go?"

"He woke up!" Mary Margaret says breathlessly as though the words were just waiting to burst forth.

"What?!" Emma and Killian say at the same time as Henry gives out a whoop of excitement.

"Well not awake, awake," Mary Margaret clarifies. "But I was reading Henry's storybook to him and as I got to the part where Prince Charming wakes Snow White with True Love's Kiss his hand moved!"

Emma looks at Killian pleadingly, "Well Mary Margaret, it might not have been anything."

Killian catches her drift with a sidelong glance at Henry who's practically bouncing in his seat. "It could have been a muscle twitch or something."

Mary Margaret shakes her head vehemently. "No he grabbed my hand - like he was trying to hold it or something."

"See!" Henry says, scrambling over his mom to step out of the booth. "He recognized your voice and is waking up!"

"I don't know that he recognized my voice or not, but it certainly seems like I'm the reason he's starting to wake up," Mary Margaret says with growing excitement.

"Come on," Henry grabs Mary Margaret's hand to pull her out of the booth. "We have to go to the hospital so you can try to wake him up all the way."

"Henry..." Emma begins, looking at Killian for help, "I don't know if -"

"Yeah," Mary Margaret agrees, standing, "You're right. Let's go."

Killian and Emma find themselves trailing after Mary Margaret and Henry to the hospital. Judging from the sidelong glares and half aborted whispers sent his way, Killian can tell Emma is pissed at him for the suggestion in the first place.

What’re the odds he’d wake up, Killian thinks as they arrive at the hospital in record time. Mary Margaret and Henry lead the group inside walking briskly from their excitement. Killian’s quick pace on the other hand is from the ominous clouds rolling in and a desire to not get caught up in the rain.

There's commotion at the hospital as they arrive and both Killian and Emma's phones begin to ring. When they'd left the station they'd set the phone to forward to their own and Killian feels a chill work its way up his spine.

Killian looks to Emma briefly but before either of them can pick up one of the nurses is ushering them inside, remarking on how quickly they arrived. "Our patient, John Doe - the one who's been in a coma for ages - is missing," the nurse explains on the way to the patient's room.

And while the comment seems off to Killian - because shouldn't the nurse have a better sense of how long the man's been here - he chooses to ignore it in favor of trying to figure out where the man could’ve disappeared to.

"We think he was kidnapped because there's just no way that a man who's been in a coma for so long could up and walk out when he showed no signs of brain activity or movement in the entire time he's been here," Dr. Whale says as they enter the room.

The heart rate monitor is still bleating out a flat line; the noise is eerily menacing in the small room. Killian dips down to inspect the end of the IV cord, where the needle and tape are dangling precariously. Someone clearly ripped the IV out, none too gently seeing as there's blood and skin caught in the tape - though it could have been ripped out by the man in question or a kidnapper. Though why would a kidnapper come now of all times, when the man has been in a coma for - well actually Killian doesn't know how long because no one seems to have said.

And just as this thought crosses his mind, Emma voices his thoughts. "How long was he in a coma?"

"You know he might not have been kidnapped," Mary Margaret pipes up from behind them. "I was reading to him earlier and he grabbed my hand."

"There are plenty of involuntary twitches that coma patients may have," Dr. Whale says, completely ignoring Emma's query. "Some of them may seem purposeful, but I assure you he's never once shown a sign of true mental purposeful movement."

"What about your security cameras?" Killian asks, pointing to the black box in the corner of the ceiling, which looks like it's resting at the perfect angle to capture the scene completely.

The nurse and doctor look at each other guiltily, "Well they are temperamental," the nurse begins, as a short gruff man enters the room.

"Walter," he says reaching out a hand to brusquely shake both Emma's and Killian's, "hospital security."

Emma rolls her eyes, "Walter I've known you for as long as I can remember, I don't think you need to introduce yourself."

And there's that phrase again, Killian wants to think on it, but there's more pressing matters at the moment.

"I got the cameras to work, follow me," Walter says, ignoring Emma's comment as he begins to lead them down the corridor to the security booth.

Mary Margaret, Henry, Emma, Killian, and Dr. Whale follow. The clicking of their feet against the white linoleum is so loud Killian wouldn’t be surprised if everyone within a ten room radius is aware of their approach.

The security booth is a tiny room tucked in a far corner of the hospital, clearly added on as an afterthought. It is far too cramped for all of them to fit, but they manage to squeeze in anyway. As they squeeze into the room Henry steps back to make room for his mother knocks his elbow into Killian’s groin. Killian grunts and shifts backwards, accidentally stepping on Mary Margaret's foot.

Walter presses the power button on the decrepit old surveillance system and the screen flickers to life. The image is in black and white, picture granulated from the aging system. Lines flash across the screen even though the image is paused. The entire room lets out a sigh of relief when Walter scoots forward in his chair, freeing up another inch of standing space.

On the screen Mary Margaret is sitting on the edge of the bed with Henry's book in her lap. At first her shoulders are ramrod straight, but they slowly relax as time goes on until she jumps up suddenly and runs out. Mary Margaret murmurs beside them that that was the moment he grabbed her hand and she ran to tell the nurse.

Walter fast forwards through much of the evening before slowing it back down around a half hour ago. Killian leans forward as they watch the grainy image. One minute the man is lying prone in bed, the next he’s upright and throwing off the covers. He rips the IV straight from his arm and stumbles out of the ward and hospital into the night.

Walter shuts off the feed and switches to one focused on the hospital entrance where the man, still dressed in his hospital gown staggers towards the dark woods before going out of frame. Killian clasps the man on the shoulder with a smile. "Good man Walter, now we know where to start looking."

"Hurry," says Dr. Whale, already moving out of the booth, "after being in a coma for so long he needs medical attention soon."

"Wait," Mary Margaret says as they all exit the cramped space, "Walter if you saw him getting up from bed why didn't you stop him."

The man looks chastised for once and mumbles something about sleeping. Before Mary Margaret can respond Emma pushes her out of the booth.

"I'm coming," Mary Margaret says rushing alongside Emma and Killian as they run towards the exit. Emma looks like she's about to protest - this is official police business after all - but Mary Margaret cuts her off, "You can't stop me."

Emma sighs her acquiescence as they head out the doors into the main lobby. "I'm coming too," Henry says, running behind them.

"No," all three of them chorus together.

"Absolutely not," Regina says striding into the hospital. Her heels click out an ominous rhythm against the tile. "Henry you will stay here with me."

"Yeah kid," Emma says apologetically. "It's too dangerous for you to come out there with us."

"What are you even doing here?" Henry asks Regina suspiciously.

Regina steps forward and clasps Henry's hands between her own. "Since I'm mayor and they don't know who John Doe is, I’m his emergency contact," she says condescendingly.

"Can we go?" Mary Margaret says urgently. With a quick goodbye the three of them head out into the stormy night.

They're deep in the woods when Mary Margaret, who is surprisingly good at tracking, loses the trail. She'd bent over sticks and bushes, directly them with a swiftness that surprised all three of them, but as they reach the bank of the overflowing river she loses it. The rain is coming down in sheets making it hard for them to see and the thunder is getting so close that each bolt shakes the ground beneath their feet. The rain runs in rivulets down Killian's face. He swipes uselessly at it, blinking furiously.

"We'll never find him in this mess," Emma says, half shouting to be heard over the downpour.

"No, we can't give up," Mary Margaret says pushing her drenched hair out of her face. "I will -" Her voice is so drowned out by the sudden crash of thunder that Killian cannot be sure what she said.

A flash of lightening lights up the sky for one instant and Killian spies something atop the toll bridge. "There," he points, hoping against hope that it's the man and not a trick of shadow he sees.

The three of them sprint towards the bridge and just as another bolt crashes into the ground the shadow teeters, falling off the bridge and into the churning water below. Killian barely even catches Mary Margaret's gasp before he's throwing off his walkie talkie and shucking his heavy leather jacket to dive into the water after him.

Killian doesn't consider himself a weak swimmer, but in that moment when the frigid water steals the breath from his lungs and the strong churning current threatens to pull him under, he reconsiders. He kicks furiously; the pull of his prosthetic hand is dead weight on the end of his arm and he momentarily wishes that he remembered to pull it off.

He takes a deep gasping breath as the water pulls him below and continues towards the dark shape slowly sinking in the rough waters. Killian manages to break through to the surface again and dives back under, eyes squinting in the murky blackness. His lungs start to burn and his throat feels like it's bled raw. He'll take a big gasping breath soon - whether he's below the surface or not. Just then his fingers brush against fabric and he scrambles for a better grasp. Once his hand is clasped around flesh he pulls hard.

The water's churning furiously around him and he realizes with dawning horror that he doesn't know which way is up. Using the last puff of air in his lungs he blows out and watches the bubbles make their way to the surface, kicking madly to follow. His vision is blackening around the edges and he can't hold his mouth closed any longer. His mouth opens wide to take in a big deep breath just below the surface of the river. Water floods his mouth and nose and suddenly he's breaking the surface, choking and spluttering, half drowned, before the weight of the body attached to him and the ferocity of the water drags him under once more.

 He wraps his arm just below the man's broad shoulders and breaks through the surface again, kicking backwards towards shore where the light from Mary Margaret's flashlight shines like a homing beacon. He somehow manages to keep both their heads mostly above water until they get close enough to the edge for Emma and Mary Margaret to pull them the rest of the way out.

The man lays unconscious on the ground with Mary Margaret hovering over him as Emma helps Killian onto land. He's still coughing and spluttering, taking deep gulping breaths when Mary Margaret’s voice cuts through the night, "He's not breathing."

Emma drags her gaze from Killian to the man prone beside him. "Do you know mouth to mouth?" she asks Mary Margaret, hands still hovering on Killian's face.

Killian can see Mary Margaret's eyes widen as another bolt of lightning lights up the sky. Killian sits up and Emma moves towards Mary Margaret and John Doe. Mary Margaret takes a deep breath of air and presses her lips to his. Instead of her cheeks deflating and bringing her head up for another swallow of air, her lips remain on his longer than they should and Killian moves to push her away from the man and begin CPR the right way when she pulls back and the man takes a deep breath, coughing up water then falls back unconscious - but breathing, once more.

Emma is on her walkie talkie immediately, describing their location so an ambulance can be sent for the man as Killian spins to face the woods, almost positive he saw a face hidden in the greenery a moment before when lightening lit up the sky.

Emma slaps him on the shoulder and he turns around to face her. "You fucking idiot," she says with no small amount of anger, "You could've drown."

"And what let the man die?" Killian responds angrily.

Emma's mouth is open to argue when Mary Margaret interrupts them, "Hush, both of you. The important thing is that Killian and David are okay."

"What kind of CPR was that anyway?" Emma murmurs to no one in particular.

"True Love's Kiss," Henry says from behind them. Killian jumps at the lad’s sudden appearance and whips around to face him

He's standing at the edge of the forest. The beam from his flashlight shakes as his hand trembles from the cold. They boy is drenched and wipes an equally wet sleeve across his nose, shaking like a leaf as he approaches.

"What're you doing here Henry?" Emma asks sternly.

"I came to help you find Prince Charming."

"Henry that was really dangerous lad. You should've stayed back at the hospital with your mum."

Emma wraps her arms around Henry to provide what little warmth she can. "Well it's too late to do anything about it now."

Killian is cold too, now that he thinks about it, skin chilled to the bone from his jump in the river and his teeth teeter on the edge of chattering. He throws the jacket that he'd tossed off in his rush into the water back on, though it provides little warmth. The flash of red lights is saving grace and he rushes to meet the paramedics who park as close to them as they dare.

Once everyone is safely inside the ambulance Killian speaks to distract from the chattering of his teeth, "Why do you think he walked out here and jumped into the river?" he asks no one in particular.

"He didn't jump!" Mary Margaret says indignantly, "He fell."

"Because of the story!" Henry pipes up.

Emma remains stoically silent in the corner. Killian doesn't even know why he bothered asking, because if he were to have bet what their responses would be, he would have guessed exactly that.

"In my book Snow White saves Prince Charming's life at the troll bridge, he was going there to look for you Ms. Blanchard." The look on Mary Margaret's face is one of dawning realization and Emma shoots her a look with its meaning clear. Do not encourage him.

"He was probably just confused," Mary Margaret says, though she sounds unconvinced of her own words and this is shaping up to be quite the exciting evening.

The ambulance goes over a particularly harsh bump in the road and Emma nearly spills into his lap. Not that Killian would mind this development, but Emma glares at him as though he caused the vehicle to shift and force her into him.

"Alright there Swan?" he asks quietly so only she can hear.

Her gaze is piercing and if looks could kill, Killian would be a dead man. "Fine," she answers abruptly.

Killian shifts so his elbow bumps hers, and he takes it as a small victory that she doesn't flinch away. "Right, you're just indignant for fun then?"

"Now is not the time," she says, eyes darting to Henry who’s looking at them speculatively before settling her gaze on her lap.

Soon enough they're back at the hospital and John Doe is being loaded back into his old room. Once he's settled and Dr. Whale confirms that he should be okay and may possibly wake up permanently today or tomorrow, Henry decides to run and try to find his mother before she notices he's missing.

"If she didn't notice you missing before lad," Killian calls at the boy's retreating back, "I think she might notice you're soaked to the bone."

Henry's too far away to hear but Mary Margaret chuckles good naturedly. "I'm glad he's going to be okay," she says, glancing through the glass wall at the man sleeping peacefully within, "and he might even wake up soon," she adds. Killian can tell that she's trying to tamp down her enthusiasm and failing miserably.

"Or he might not," Emma comments and he barks a laugh at her cynicism.

Both women turn to him to look at him accusingly and he holds up his hands in surrender. "Just remarking at how different you two are love," he says with his most charming smile.

Mary Margaret smiles in return and Emma rolls her eyes. "We'd better get out of here before Regina goes on a warpath because Henry snuck away again," Emma says eventually.

"I think I'll stay here just a bit longer," Mary Margaret says, eyes glued on the man in the glass room.

Emma opens her mouth to object but Killian grabs her elbow, "We'll be seeing you later then Mary Margaret," he says, dragging Emma away.

"Why'd you do that?" Emma asks indignantly.

"Oh let her dream a little Swan," he says, "What harm is it if she waits by his bedside a bit longer."

Emma pulls her elbow out of his grasp and walks ahead, "Because she'll get her hopes up."

It’s a long and quiet walk to Emma’s apartment with Killian using his jacket as a shield from the now drizzling rain. He shakes off like a dog at the door and just as he's turning to leave Emma’s voice stops him.

“Do you want to come in for a minute to warm up,” she asks.

He gladly accepts.

Killian stands awkwardly in the center of the room, too aware of the small puddle forming beneath him to sit down.

"So are we going to talk about what happened in the ambulance," he finally asks as Emma drops her jacket in a sopping heap on the floor as she walks to the stove to prepare what he presumes is hot chocolate.

"Okay, fine," she says, whirling around to face him. "You want to do this, we’ll do this. I'm pissed because you need to listen to me Killian, even if you don't like it I'm still your boss and you can't just do whatever the hell you want."

Killian steps over the jacket laying on the floor and moves so close to her that their faces are mere inches apart. "Two things love," he says, "One, you're a great boss and I love working for you, so the implication that I don't is just ridiculous. And two, you didn't actually tell me to do anything or not do anything when we saw the man fall into the water."

Emma leans closer, "I told you not to go in," she says sharply.

Killian shakes his head minutely and a puff of air fans over his face, "No love, you definitely didn't."

"Did too," she insists, though her eyes shy away from his and she's suddenly taking a step back. "Well whatever," she says, "I don't want to argue like children, let's just agree to disagree." Before Killian even has a chance to respond she's bounding up the stairs to the loft calling behind her, "I've got to change out of these clothes quick."

Killian bends to pick up her jacket off the floor, carefully hanging it on the hook. His socks squelch as he steps along the wood and he knows there will be water all over it before the night is through. He also knows that she is well aware of the fact that she didn't say anything to him. So that's not the real reason she was upset with him.

 Plus she couldn't meet his gaze just now and he wonders if she actually cares, if she's mad because he put himself in danger and that's why she suddenly ran away upstairs during the middle of their fight. Just as he's coming to this conclusion she pokes her head over the railing to the loft holding up a pair of clearly well-loved grey sweatpants.

"Do you want to change?" she asks, holding out a large t-shirt too, the kind that is given away and inevitably too big on everyone and therefore never worn again.

Killian is about to refuse on the principle of it, but then he shifts and the wet material of his trousers rides up in a particularly uncomfortable way. He nods. "Yes please, if you don't mind."

Emma throws the clothes down and Killian is only able to catch the pants one handed, bending over to pick up the shirt from the floor. "Bathroom's through that door there," Emma says pointing before she disappears again.

Killian pulls the drawstring of the pants as tight as they will go, and still finds them in danger of slipping too low on his hips. He has no idea how Emma can possibly wear them. The shirt fits barely any better, but he's so thankful to not be wet anymore that he can't complain. The sudden warmth from the dry clothes on his chilled skin has his shoulders shaking with chills as he exits the bathroom.

Emma is curled up on the couch with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, ends curling slightly from the dampness. She's got her feet tucked up beneath her and a mug wrapped up in her hands. She smiles when she sees him and nods towards a steaming mug sitting on the coffee table - directly next to, but not on - a coaster. He smiles in return and feels a surge of warmth that has nothing to do with the change of clothes.

"I left my wet things hanging on the side of the tub," he says as a way of breaking the not exactly uncomfortable silence. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "That's more than I did."

Perhaps, Killian thinks, in this life of his that he cannot remember he was a janitor, because the thought of her drenched clothes sitting in a heap upstairs, wetness leeching into the wooden floor of the apartment makes him cringe. Killian sits down on the opposite end of the couch from her and picks the mug up off the table, surreptitiously wiping away the ring it left in its wake as he does so. And though there was tension before they changed it's all but disappeared by now, replaced with a lazy warmth, winding its way through the loft.

Before he knows it both he and Emma are talking freely. He wonders briefly if perhaps there's something a little stronger than coco in his chocolate but then the thought floats away on the wind when a little whipped cream mustache forms just above Emma's lips. He smiles a little too freely around her, he realizes, as he tries to gesture above his lip and finds himself hitting teeth.

"You've got a little," he gestures properly this time and she laughs, swiping her tongue up to catch the wayward cream.

 "Do you think John Doe will wake tomorrow?"  he asks. It’s possible even, that the man has already woken, with Mary Margaret still holding a vigil at his bedside. If he didn't know any better he'd say the woman is smitten.

Emma shrugs noncommittally. "I hope so, then we can finally find out who he is."

"I'm surprised in a town this small that no one recognizes him." Killian sets his mug down on the coaster and shifts so he's facing Emma more fully.

"It's not that small," she says defensively.

Killian laughs, "Oh really? Then why did every single person I met know immediately I was an outsider."

"The accent is kind of telling."

Killian scoffs. "Did you notice no one seemed to mention how long he was in the coma?"

Emma tilts her head back in thought for a long moment before looking back at him. "I don't know. We were busy trying to find him. I’m not entirely surprised Dr. Whale ignored my question."

"And that," Killian says, pointing at her, "that right there is another thing. Don't you think that's weird that I asked three people today how long that man's been in a coma - one of whom was the doctor who's been treating him all this time - and not one of you could give me an answer. I don't need an exact number of days but gods, has he been there a month, three? A year? Ten?"

 "You're so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "You sound like Henry; it's not some big conspiracy or anything. If you're really that curious I'm sure you could go to the hospital and look at his actual records to see when he was admitted."

"I think I will," he says, tomorrow he amends silently, far too warm and Emma's smiles coming far too easy in the moment for him to dare move from his spot.

 Though as if his thoughts summoned it, there is a knock at the door. Emma stands to get it and Killian feels a little out of place as the bubble they’d rested comfortably in pops. He grabs the mug from the table, if only for something to do with his hand.

Once Emma opens the door Regina bursts in with the force of a windstorm. The woman clearly remembered an umbrella since she is perfectly dry, Killian notices with no small amount of disdain

"Of course Regina, why don't you come in?" Emma says, voice laced thickly with sarcasm, "Where’s Henry?"

"That is none of your concern," she says, with barely contained rage. "Why would you bring Henry out with you in a thunderstorm - To find some Pr- John Doe!?" she yells, and Killian wouldn't be surprised if little droplets of spittle weren't shooting out of her mouth in a fine spray.

"That is reckless of you Miss Swan - though I don't know why I expect anything else from you. If you keep acting this way endangering my son's life I'll have no reason not to cut off all contact -"

"No way in hell," Emma says, low and dangerous.

 Killian feels more out of place by the minute, sipping his lukewarm hot chocolate on the sofa as these women fight over the son they share. Killian moves slowly, hoping to get up and escape to the kitchen without catching their notice, but the moment his arse leaves the chair both their heads swivel around to him.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Regina asks, seething.

Emma moves so she's blocking Regina's path to him and squares her shoulders. "He has every right to be here," she says, voice cracking from the effort of keeping it at a normal volume. "You may think yourself Queen of this town Regina," Emma says, "but you have no right to come barging into my home and questioning who I'm spending my time with."

Killian, while feeling slightly guilty that he's adding to the animosity between the women, can't help but feel a little flattered that Emma is defending him so fiercely.

"What," Regina says, with an almost crazed look in her eyes, "did you just call me?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "You heard me," she says in lieu of repeating herself.

Regina's eyes flash and then she's suddenly in control of herself again, face schooled into careful indifference. "Well since you are both employed by me," Regina says, stepping further into the room, carefully avoiding the left over puddle on the floor. "I think that it is my business. Perhaps Sydney is the best person for the deputy position after all."

"You would look for any excuse to plant one of your minions to watch over me, wouldn't you?" Emma asks, voice finally raising to match Regina’s. "Well too bad Regina because as long as I am sheriff I have the responsibility of staffing my office how I see fit - so screw you."

"Perhaps I should take my leave," Killian says, feeling like he's just making things worse.

"I'll give you a ride," Regina says gruffly, brokering no argument. "I was just leaving anyway. Good day Miss Swan."

Killian considers changing his mind for a moment the appeal of staying to try to create that calm warm cocoon they were in before almost overwhelming now that Regina is leaving, but he fears Regina won’t leave until he does.

 "Thanks for the drink Swan," Killian says tipping his mug to her before depositing it in the sink.

"See you tomorrow," Emma says, laying her hand across his arm as he walks past, eyes darting to where Regina waits impatiently, foot tapping out an ominous rhythm against the wood.

He knows the uncharacteristic show of affection is more for Regina's benefit than his own, an added ‘fuck off I'll do what I want’ sort of thing, but he finds himself reaching up and squeezing her hand all the same. Emma looks startled. He smiles reassuringly at her. Her smile in return sets his heart on fire and god when did he start falling for this woman? Killian feels the sudden urge to dip his head and kiss Emma's hand that his is still clasped around as though he's some sort of gentleman from a forgotten time.

"Let's go Jones," Regina calls, breaking the moment. "I don't have time for whatever," she waves her hand around gesturing vaguely, "this is."

And even though the moment has been broken, Killian finds himself dipping his head and pulling Emma's hand up towards his lips. "Until tomorrow love," he whispers, placing a brief kiss to the back of her palm - now with the added bonus of pissing off the mayor just a bit more.

Regina is already out the door when Killian pulls back, though he hardly notices with the focus of his entire being concentrated on the pretty blush taking form on Emma's cheeks as she tries valiantly (and unsuccessfully) to scowl at him. When Killian slips his wet boots onto his feet they squelch uncomfortably, but even with the squish of each step he can't find it in himself to care as he steps out of her apartment and into the dark night.

The mayor's car is running, headlights casting the street in shadow. Killian ducks his head against the renewed downpour as he dashes to the car. He slides into the leather interior, chancing a glance in the back seat to see Henry asleep, sprawled across the seats with the seat belt cutting across him at what must be an uncomfortable angle. The car is too warm to be considered comfortable and smells of apples, almost sickeningly so. It's only as Regina puts the car into drive and pulls away that Killian realizes he's still wearing the clothes Emma let him borrow, and his own clothes are left hanging over the edge of her tub.

"So Killian, you don't seem like the small town kind of guy to me," Regina says in a tone that she must think sounds amicable. "I'm surprised you've stayed here so long already."

Killian hums noncommittally as he drums his fingers along the dash. He has his gaze fixed straight ahead, and when they turn left when they should’ve turned right, he wonders just how much of a roundabout way they’re taking to Granny's.

"So do you think you're going to be heading out soon?" she asks, as though it's just to make conversation, but the white knuckled grip she holds on the steering wheel betrays her.

Killian glances in the rear view mirror at the boy asleep in the backseat before answering. "I suppose I'll stick around a while longer," he says.

"Oh good," Regina says, as if this was her goal all along, even though her eyes flash with anger in the dim light of the car as the wiper blades swish violently back and forth against the near torrential downpour. "Don't you think though, that you'd want to be something more than a deputy perhaps?"

"I like my work," Killian answers, carefully, wary of where this is going.

"Oh, I'm not suggesting you quit work at the police station," she laughs and places a perfectly manicured hand uncomfortably high on his thigh. He turns his head to her and smiles with an eyebrow raised, flirtatious - safe familiar territory to tread when he's standing on unsteady ground.

"Then what is it you suggest?" he practically purrs, tilting in close to her so that if she looked away from the road, their faces would be mere inches apart.

She pulls up in front of Granny's just then, turning to face him as the car idles. The hum of the engine and the wipers against the rain seem distinctly muted in the car, his own heartbeat and breathing far louder - yet he doesn't pull back. It's as though the first to step back from their standoff loses - what exactly they're betting he's not sure, but Killian Jones does not like to lose.

"If you're willing to," she pauses, “help me out so to speak, I can see to it that you become sheriff.” Her hand shifts further up his thigh and it takes all his willpower to not throw her off, and he knows that while her hand is implying a favor of a sexual nature, what she means is far from it.

"And what of Emma?" he asks.

The change is instantaneous. She rears her head back and yanks her hand off his leg as though it’s scalding.

"You, Mr. Jones, do not belong here. I am mayor of this town and if you wish to continue to reside in it, you'd be wise to align yourself with me." From friendly to seductive to angry and Killian thinks she's finally being truthful.

"You've made a mistake lass," Killian says, hand on the door handle.

"And what's that?" she asks, voice cutting like ice and Killian wonders how the lad hasn't woken up already. He'd think the boy was faking if it weren't for the sticky line of drool paving a dark path down his shirt.

There's an audible click as Killian pulls down the handle and pushes open the door. The cacophony of sounds is no longer dulled and water slants sideways with the wind breezing into the vehicle. He puts one foot out onto the pavement, grey sweatpants darkening almost immediately in the heavy rain. He turns his head over his shoulder to face her. "I'm not one for doing what I'm told," he says, and with that he leaves.

The wheels spin out twice before catching and she speeds away an instant after he's slammed the door. Killian wants to stroll inside in a more dignified manner, but he has already been soaked to the bone once tonight and would rather not be that way again. He runs inside and shakes off like a dog once in the doors, earning a chastising glare from Granny that he returns with a flirty smile.

When Killian walks back into his room at Granny's his phone buzzes with a text from Emma, you forgot your clothes at my place. Even though the reason for his clothes being at Emma's is completely innocent, Killian finds himself smiling at the screen long after it goes dark.

The next morning he's only just arrived at the station when he gets a text from Emma telling him John Doe is awake and to meet her at the hospital; they need to take his statement. Killian knows the way to the ward where the man is staying by heart now.

Emma and Mary Margaret are in the room as well as a nurse checking over the man's vitals. The woman passes him as he walks in and he winks at her, earning an eye roll from Emma. He knows he's a flirt, but he can't help it, it's a defense mechanism. He wonders if Emma knows that with her it's different, with her it's sincere. He doesn't know what scares him more, the thought that she does or that she doesn't.

The man is sitting up in bed, looking remarkably good for someone who's been in a coma for an indiscriminate amount of time as Killian walks in. The man’s gaze is fixed firmly on Mary Margaret, as she runs her hands down the pleat of her skirt, shyly avoiding his eyes. Emma stands off to the side watching the pair.

"Hey Jones," she says, once he comes into the room beside her, "I have your clothes in my car by the way, remind me to give them to you before we leave," she says quietly, though not quiet enough judging by the surprised glance Mary Margaret sends their way.

"So," Emma says ignoring Mary Margaret's questioning gaze and stepping up towards the man in the hospital bed "Do you remember your name?"

The man shakes his head slowly as though to clear it. "David?" he says uncertainly, though once the name comes out of his mouth he nods definitively. "Yeah, David."

"It's nice to meet you David," Mary Margaret says, and the way she says his name - Killian can't remember anyone ever saying his name like that. "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"Sheriff Swan, and Deputy Jones," Emma says, as though realizing just now that she didn't introduce herself.

"Mary Margaret," David replies, as though weighing the name on his tongue and judging by the small smile blooming on his face, he likes it. "Dr. Whale said you're the one who saved me."

A blush works its way up Mary Margaret's neck and she ducks her gaze, "Well I just - it was all of us really," she says and Killian has never heard the woman stammer before.

Emma and Killian share a glance and smile before he clears his throat. "Remember your last name mate?" Killian asks.

David furrows his brow for a long moment before shaking his head. Emma steps forward, pulling a notepad out of her pocket and scribbling something on it.

"What's the last thing you remember before waking up?" Emma asks.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," he says shaking his head slightly, glancing at Mary Margaret quickly before looking back at Emma.

"No judgement here," Emma says to encourage him to speak.

"I remember I was somewhere - maybe it was a coma dream - but I remember being in a castle, with you," he says gesturing at Mary Margaret with a shy smile, "and someone was coming and I was protecting someone or something - I think," he screws up his eyes in concentration and is silent for a moment, "and I was cut or stabbed and started bleeding out and then I woke up here."

A castle, the man said a castle - Killian feels odd, as though a word is on the tip of his tongue, a forgotten memory weighing it down. He looks at Emma to see if she felt it too, but if she did, she makes no sign of it. Her head is down as she continues to write on her pad. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looks exactly how Killian feels, her gaze is fixed on David with a startling intensity as if she stares enough her questions will be answered.

"The story!" she says suddenly, causing Emma to jump and drop the pen to the floor.

"What about it," Emma asks tiredly as she bends to pick up the pen.

"I was reading you the story from Henry's book when you started to wake up last night -”

"You were reading to me?" he asks, eyes shining and dear god Killian feels like an intruder in this moment even though he's known the man as long as Mary Margaret has.

Mary Margaret nods albeit shyly and plows on, "Yes, and at the end of the story Prince Ch - the Prince gets stabbed as he's protecting the baby. You must've just heard that part of the story and it influenced your dreams."

"Oh that makes sense; at least we know I'm not going crazy." David laughs and Mary Margaret lights up, an echoing smile gracing her face and Killian knows she's a goner.

"Well Killian and I will do some digging and see if we can't find out where you belong," Emma says tilting her head to the door as she backs out of the room.

Once in the hall with Mary Margaret unsurprisingly staying behind, Emma puts a hand on Killian's arm and giggles, she actually giggles and Killian has a feeling that the expression on his own face is similar to that of Mary Margaret's a moment ago. "Did you see them?" Emma asks, straightening up as a nurse walks by, hand dropping from Killian's arm. He bemoans the loss.

"Oh I saw them," Killian says, falling into step beside Emma as he follows her out to the parking lot. "Our Mary Margaret appears to be absolutely smitten."

Emma smirks at him, "Smitten, really? Who says smitten anymore?"

Killian tilts towards her with a flirtatious swing of his hips, "Do you have a problem with the word smitten?" he asks and she rolls her eyes. "Perhaps it hits a little too close to home when thinking about a devilishly handsome pirate?"

Emma laughs, "Pirate, really? Have you subscribed to Henry's theory now too?"

Killian feels a blush creep up his neck and steps forward invading her space a little more to compensate. Emma stands her ground and tilts her head back at him to maintain his gaze. Killian dips his thumb into the band of his belt.

"Hmmm," he says, "avoiding the question, are we?"

Emma rolls her eyes and steps back from him, walking towards her car. "You coming Jones?" she calls over her shoulder. Killian is thankful he’s paying attention, because if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight warble to her voice. She may not be as unaffected by him as she pretends. With a quick glance at his own vehicle he abandons it to chase after Emma. He slides into the passenger seat as she starts up the engine.

"So I was thinking we could talk to Granny and Leroy first," Emma says, all business as they pull out of the parking lot. "They always seem to know everything going on in this place and if they don't know who he is, they're the most likely to know someone who does."

Killian is not Leroy's biggest fan, he'll admit, the man always seems to be shouting at the most inconvenient times. Today though he seems most unhelpful.

"Sorry sister," he says without looking at the photo Emma places in front of him, "I don't know him."

"You didn't even look," Killian says, frustration evident in his voice.

Leroy looks up from the drink in his hands and glances at the photo briefly, "I don’t know - oh wait," he reaches out and takes the photo from Emma scrutinizing it. "Nope," he says, handing the picture back to Emma, "don't know him."

Emma stares at him for a long moment after he finishes speaking, but the man appears unruffled. "Let me see that," Granny says, wiping her hands off on a towel as she walks over. "I know damn near everyone in this town," she says, and Killian can't tell if that's pride in her voice or disgruntlement, but either way she reaches a hand out for the photo.

Granny studies the photo for a long moment before shaking her head. "I'm surprised," the woman says gruffly. "If I don't know him I doubt you'll find anyone in this town who does."

After thanking Granny and heading out of the diner, Emma turns to Killian. "It's as if he just appeared out of nowhere, didn't interact with anyone and somehow ended up at the hospital."

"Plus apparently no one knows how long he was hospitalized for," Killian adds though Emma doesn't seem interested in that for some reason even though it raises up plenty of red flags for him. "Maybe he was a loner," Killian continues, "perhaps we should ask around a bit more."

After spending all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon wandering around Storybrooke looking for anyone who recognizes David, it appears their quest has been in vain because no one in this place knows the man. Not that Killian is going to complain about getting to spend the day outdoors in the unusually warm weather with Emma, but he is growing concerned that no one knows him. They've visited most of the shop owners in town, and if the man lived in Storybrooke for any amount of time he must have visited the pharmacy or grocery store at least once, but neither owners (nor patrons) recognize him.

"You may be getting a new roommate once David's released," Killian says jovially, bumping his shoulder with Emma's.

Emma bumps his shoulder back and Killian's skin feels alive at the contact, "The loft is cramped enough as it is with just me and Mary Margaret, I can't imagine it with another person."

Killian laughs, "Swan that loft is huge - you could fit five people in it - and a baby," he adds for good measure.

Emma frowns, as they cross the street, "Yeah well," she shrugs, "I'm not used to living with other people."

Killian wants to ask her about why she was in foster care, but she's only mentioned that part of her life in passing and he feels like if he asked right now all it would serve to do is push her away. "Well," Killian says, "I guess David will remain homeless then, unless we can figure out who he is."

"Wait," Emma says, stopping in front of Mr. Gold's shop with her hand on Killian's arm to stop him. Killian's eyes drop down to her fingers wrapped around his bicep and she drops it immediately. "Why doesn't David just stay with you until either he remembers or we figure out who he is?"

"Err," Killian tugs at his ear, "because in case you've forgotten Swan I live at Granny's."

"I know," she says, opening the door to the Pawn shop. The bell above the door signals their entrance, "But I'm just saying don't you think it's time you moved out of the B&B and put down some roots?"

Emma wants him to put down roots, Emma wants him to stay, the thoughts reverberate around his head and he doesn't even care that they're at his least favorite person in town's shop because Emma wants him to stay.

"Gold," Emma calls, "you here?"

Killian is fairly certain he has a big dopey grin on his face, but he can't help it. When Gold emerges from the back of the shop the smile is still firmly in place. Gold looks between the two of them quizzically then his nose scrunches up as though he's smelled something bad.

"Miss Swan," Gold says, looking at Emma with a crocodile smile, "to what do I owe the -" he pauses with a glance at Killian, "pleasure?"

"We need your help," Emma says prickly. She glances between Gold and Killian clearly noticing the uncomfortable tension filling the room.

Mr. Gold walks forward, leaning heavily on his cane. "And what is in it for me?" he asks and Killian smiles painfully, fighting the urge to slap the bastard.

"Being a decent human being," Killian says - more like snarls, and Emma puts a hand on his shoulder and steps between the two men, who've gotten uncomfortably close.

"Just tell me if you know who this is," Emma says with some exasperation, thrusting the photo into his hands. "The man was in a coma and has amnesia; we’re trying to help him figure out where he belongs."

Gold stares past Emma at Killian for a moment longer before glancing down at the now well-worn photo. His eyes light up with recognition and a brief smile flickers across his face before he schools it into a mask of indifference. "Sorry, can't say I know him."

Liar, Killian thinks.

 "Liar," Emma spits, stepping closer to Gold. "Come on Gold, clearly you know who he is so let's stop beating around the bush. Or maybe I should lock you up for paying Will to steal from yourself and forgo the phone call this time so Regina won’t bail you out again."

Killian can't help but admire her fire. "Do not test me Miss Swan," Gold says, low and dangerous.

"Don't test me," she answers, leaning in close to Gold and holding his gaze challengingly.

After a long moment Gold sags and turns his back to them, retreating behind his counter. "Well Miss Swan, I would like to help you," Killian huffs a breath in disbelief but Mr. Gold ignores him. "But unfortunately I have never seen that man in Storybrooke before."

Emma stares at him, gaze piercing before she mumbles a thanks for nothing and leads them out of the shop. "Why didn't you press him further?" Killian asks, following her down the street back towards Granny's where her car is parked.

"He was telling the truth," Emma shrugs.

"No he wasn't," Killian says. He knows the bastard was lying.

"I'll let you in on a little secret Killian," she says and he likes the way she says his name - he likes when she calls him Killian instead of Jones and wonders briefly if she likes when he calls her Emma. "I have a talent for knowing when someone is lying to me - a superpower if you will - and Gold, was telling the truth."

"Didn't you see his face when he saw the picture, he clearly knows the man."

"I agree," Emma says.

"Didn't you just say he was telling the truth?" Killian says, confused.

Emma nods, tripping slightly on the uneven sidewalk. Killian jerks forward to catch her, but she rights herself and brushes off his attempts at help. "I think that he chose his words very carefully to avoid an outright lie."

"Ooh," Killian says with dawning understanding, "He said in Storybrooke. That doesn't mean he doesn't know David from somewhere else."

"Exactly," Emma says, sliding the key into the lock of the bug.

"So if you knew he was avoiding the question why did you just leave?" Killian asks as they slip into the car.

"Because you don't know Gold like I do," Emma says, and deep down in his bones Killian feels the urge to protest - to assert that he knows the man better than anyone in this place - which makes absolutely no sense so he bites his tongue as he clicks the seat belt into place. "Everything he gives you costs something. We'll find out who David is without his help and I don't want to be in that man's debt - you and I are just about the only people in this place who aren't."

Killian can understand where she's coming from, but it's disappointing to say the least that they're headed back to the hospital with no leads. Killian twists the ring around his finger with his thumb, gaze fixed out the window.

"What's the deal between you two anyway?" Emma asks.

Killian turns to face Emma; she glances away quickly and Killian sees a blush spread prettily along her cheeks. He wonders if he's the cause of it.

Killian shrugs, "I don't know love," he says. "I think he knows me but I can't for the life of me remember him." Emma pulls into the hospital parking lot, bug fitting snugly between a van and SUV. Killian shimmies out of his door and starts walking towards the hospital entrance. "When I met him at the library he seemed to hate me immediately."

"The library?" Emma asks, turning towards him, face unreadable. "Were you with Belle?"

Killian doesn't know why it'd matter, but nods. "Aye, the lady Belle and I were together."

"Oh," Emma says, walking a little bit more briskly to the ward where David is.

Killian jogs to catch up. "Does it matter?" he asks, confused at her sudden distance when they've been having such a pleasant day.

Emma keeps her eyes forward. "Not to me," she says brusquely, "It's just that Mr. Gold has a thing for Belle and he probably didn't like you paying attention to her - he's like, creepily possessive of her."

"Hmm, maybe," Killian says thoughtfully as David approaches them with a smile, leaning heavily on Mary Margaret's arm.

"Did you come back here after school?" Emma asks Mary Margaret incredulously.

Mary Margaret darts her eyes to David significantly and Emma shuts her mouth. A small secret smile tilts her lips.

"Did you two happen to find anything out about who I am?" David asks, leading them all to his room and sitting down heavily on his bed - apparently exhausted.

Emma shakes her head and steps forward. "I'm sorry David, we asked all over town but it seems that no one knows who you are."

David's face falls as he hears this news and Mary Margaret clasps his hand in solidarity. "Don't worry," she says with a smile full of hope. "We'll figure it out. Emma and Killian will ask around again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course milady," Killian says, earning him an odd look from Emma. "We'll keep up the search, maybe we can look in the town records for all the Davids."

"The names are arranged alphabetically by last name," Emma says with a barely restrained groan. "Though of course we'll look through them if we have to," she adds.

"That will not be necessary Miss Swan," Regina says, appearing out of nowhere. "While you and Mr. Jones here were out on a wild goose chase, I did some real investigative work and found Mr. Nolan's wife."

A tall blonde woman comes rushing into the room behind Regina. "David?" she cries out.

Mary Margaret pulls her hand out of David's grasp hurriedly and moves out of the way as the blonde crashes into David. The look on Mary Margaret's face is one of utter heartbreak and Killian hazards a glance at Emma who is watching the situation unfold before her in stony silence.

"Kathryn Nolan, Mary Margaret Blanchard," Regina says with a barely restrained smile, "Mary Margaret, Kathryn."

Kathryn pulls her head out of David's neck, eyes red and glassy with tears. "You saved him?" she asks.

Mary Margaret nods mutely, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Thank you," Kathryn says with such sincerity that it makes it very difficult for Killian to hate the woman. By the expression on Mary Margaret's face she's thinking the exact same thing. Kathryn pries herself away from David and flings her arms around Mary Margaret, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," Emma says interrupting the reunion, "but if you're his wife, why didn't you report him missing?"

"How long was he even missing?" Killian asks. Everyone in the room ignores him as though his question is ridiculous.

Kathryn looks at David a little guiltily while the man just appears to be in shock. "We had a fight and David said he was leaving town," she shakes her head as if to dispel unpleasant thoughts. "But this is a sign - this is a second chance for us."

Before the situation can grow any more awkward, Emma, Killian and (a heartbroken) Mary Margaret leave. Emma grumbles under her breath but she can't exactly fault Regina for doing something they couldn't - even if she does find it suspicious.

Killian goes back to Granny's that night, and a newspaper left open to the classifieds on the counter feels like a sign. Seven days and six phone calls later Killian has keys to his very own apartment.

Killian contemplates calling Emma to help him move in - he could bribe her with food because there's no way it's healthy to live off of grilled cheese - but the apartment is already furnished and he has scant few possessions of his own so he doesn't. As it is, it only takes him three trips up the stairs and an hour and half for him to be completely moved in. As he stands in the center of what must be the only apartment available in the whole town - one that is far too big for him alone, he feels like it's the first time he’s had his own place, though without his memories he can’t be sure. No longer renting out from motels and B&Bs feels momentous.

Killian knows, logically, that he must have lived someplace permanent that he could call his own before, but without his memories this feels like a first and he wants to celebrate. He sits down on the, sort of musty, brown couch that came with the place and pulls out his phone. His contacts are sparse and Killian feels the full weight of a forgotten past in that moment sitting alone in his new apartment with four numbers programmed into his phone. Mary Margaret Blanchard, Belle French, Ruby Lucas, who gave him her number with more than friendly intentions but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to call her and perhaps the reason for that is the next and last contact in his phone, Emma Swan. His thumb hovers over the last name. He wants to call her. The desire to be in her company - not at all dulled by spending the entire day with her at work - is at full force. It scares him.

Killian clicks off his screen with a sigh and gets up to go to his (at the moment) nearly empty fridge for a beer when the screen lights up. Instead of Emma's name, Mary Margaret's pops up on the screen and Killian is sure the surprise is evident in his voice as he answers.

Twenty minutes later he's sitting in the Rabbit Hole waiting for Mary Margaret to show up. He’s never been much of a rum drinker, from what he can remember at least, but it calls out to him tonight. He’s alone at a table in the back twirling the bottle in his fingers when Mary Margaret burst in.

"Thanks for meeting me," she says, unwrapping a scarf from her neck and putting it down on the seat next to her as she sits down.

"Of course," Killian says, tilting the bottle forward in offering.

Mary Margaret grabs the bottle out of his hand and takes a large swig.  She grunts as the liquor burns down her throat and wipes her mouth with the back of a hand. "Thanks," she says.

"Are you okay?" he asks eyeing her white knuckled grip on the bottle as she passes it back to him.

"I lied!" she blurts, darting her gaze around the bar for a moment before returning to him.

Killian raises a brow, "About what?" The guilt at the lie is clear on her face and Killian's mind runs wild wondering what she could possibly have lied about to cause this much discomfort before remembering the woman is practically a saint.

"I didn't get to the part of the story where they're in the castle and the prince is saving the baby," she confesses. "I didn't realize it was a lie until later though or I wouldn't have done it," she assures him.

"Prince?" Killian asks, "Lass what're you talking about. You're going to have to start at the beginning."

Mary Margaret steals the bottle from him and takes another swig before speaking. "When David was telling us about his dream where he was in a castle protecting a baby," Killian nods still unsure where this is going, "I said that I read that part of the book to him but I didn't!"

Understanding dawns on him and Killian realizes exactly why she called him instead of Emma. "So he came up with a memory or dream that sounds exactly like Henry's book all on his own?"

Mary Margaret nods solemnly. "You understand why I couldn't tell Emma this," she says quietly, glancing over her shoulder as if the mere thought of the woman will cause her to appear. "She's already worried enough as it is that Henry will think David waking up is proof of his stories."

Killian twirls the bottle by the rim, "I agree with you there lass, but don't you think it's a little odd that his story is so similar to Henry's?"

"You're not saying you believe Henry," Mary Margaret asks incredulously, "are you?"

"No," Killian says, shaking his head and shifting forward in his chair, boots sticking to the floor slightly. "No of course not, but don't you think this place is a little," he pauses, wondering if he can confide in Mary Margaret. Her earnest expression coupled with the fact that she confided in him makes the decision for him, "strange?"

Mary Margaret begins to shake her head no almost instinctively before she quirks her head to the side and pauses.

"Like how no one knows how long David was in the hospital," Killian says quickly, while she seems open to his half formed theories. "Or how I seem to be the only visitor in anyone's living memory."

"So if you don't believe Henry's theory that we're all cursed," she says slowly, leaning across the table and speaking in no more than a whisper. "What do you believe?"

Killian shrugs and fingers the peeling label of the bottle before taking another sip. There’s a pleasant buzz beginning to fill his veins. "I don't know," he says truthfully, "if all of you had amnesia like me I'd say perhaps the lad's theory has some merit to it, but you do have your memories..." he trails off unsure he wants to continue on a path of what ifs.

"Do you believe in past lives," Mary Margaret asks suddenly, eyes boring into his.

"I can't say that the thought has crossed my mind before," he says.

"I'm just thinking," Mary Margaret says, "that maybe David is remembering a past life, not one where he was," she coughs a little shyly, "my prince charming or anything, but one a few hundred years ago where he lived and died in a castle." She smiles a little self-deprecatingly, "I sound crazy, don't I?"

Killian smiles. "No more crazy than I am," he says with a wink.

He reluctantly pulls off his sunglasses when he enters the station, hanging up his leather jacket next to Emma's on the post and grunts a hello as he plops down at his desk.

"What happened to you?" Emma asks, far too cheerily in his opinion.

"It appears my alcohol tolerance is not what it once was," he says, placing the cool plastic of his prosthetic against his forehead.

Emma's smile falls. "Where you out with Mary Margaret last night?" she asks. Killian's heart gives a traitorous little leap at the tone of her voice.

"Do I detect a hint of jealously Swan," he asks, deflecting since he isn't certain if Mary Margaret would want Emma to know if she didn't tell her already. "Because there's no need to worry love, my heart is yours," his voice is light and joking, but as he speaks the words feel heavy with truth. His gaze is too sincere and it scares him - but he knows it scares Emma just that much more.

She rolls her eyes and stands, walking over to their little coffee pot to pour herself a cup, putting her back to him. "It doesn’t matter to me who you spend your time with Jones," she says and he can practically see the mortar being slathered onto another brick as she adds a new layer to her walls. "I was just wondering because Mary Margaret came home drunk last night - which she never does - and anyway I was just curious," she says, "so don't - don't make this into a thing," she finishes lamely with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

Killian bites back a smile at that and is glad her back is still to him or he's sure she'd retreat further. "Well if you must know," he says because if he's being honest here he's surprised he lasted this long without telling her and it's not as though Mary Margaret specifically asked him to keep it a secret. "Mary Margaret and I went out for a couple drinks. She wanted a friendly ear and I was more than willing to listen." There Killian thinks, that's perfect, satisfy Emma's curiosity without breaking Mary Margaret's confidence.

Emma looks at him intensely and he knows her well enough by now that he knows she's trying to figure out if he's lying. Killian gives her his most winning smile as she walks towards him. She plops the cup of coffee she was pouring down in front of him.

"Drink this," she says, setting the coffee cup down onto the desk in front of him, "You look like shit."

Killian puts his hand to his chest and smiles. "Why Swan," he says, "I didn't know you cared."

Emma rolls her eyes as she takes her own seat. Killian gulps down the liquid, so hot it nearly burns his throat on the way down. Little droplets spill over the edge of the cup and run down his hand. Killian gasps and nearly drops the cup in his effort to set it down on the desk. He brings his hand to his lips, darting his tongue out to catch the hot wayward drops. When he glances up Emma's gaze is fixed on him before flitting back to the work on her desk.

Killian feels a stirring heat low in his belly that has nothing to do with the coffee, and for all her brash bluster Killian wonders if Emma might feel something too.

 "Hey Swan," he says, and why is he suddenly so nervous (sure asking your boss out might not be the best idea, but still) "what do you say I take you out tomorrow night for dinner?" he asks, trying to sound confident and flippant, as if her answer doesn't really matter, but he knows she sees right through him - she always does.

"Killian," she says and it sounds like an apology, "We work together, I think it's best we remain professional."

Killian wants to take it back and say he meant going out as friends but he's not a coward, he won't take it back now. "Well," he says with a forced smile that feels like it's stretching his skin too tight, "You know where to find me if you ever change your mind."

The door to the station opens just then, saving her from having to respond and Killian isn't sure if he's thankful for the distraction or not. Kathryn Nolan walks in briskly. Her heels click on the tile and her skirt swishes around her knees. Her hair is pulled back into a bun with not one strand out of place and she smiles as though it's an art.

"Hello," she says amicably, before noticing the tension in the room. She glances between the two of them briefly, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," Emma says, standing. Her shoulders are tense and if Killian were an optimist he'd believe it was because she was trying very hard not to look at him, "Not at all. What can we help you with?"

Smile back in place Kathryn hands something to Emma. "We're having a little get together tonight to celebrate David's return and I'd love for both of you - and Mary Margaret of course - to come. You did save him."

Emma takes the invitation from Kathryn's hand and smiles at her. "I'll let Mary Margaret know," she says and Killian can see her smile is forced. "We'll definitely try to stop by."

"I'll be there," Killian says. It’ll be a good opportunity to figure out more about David's mysterious history.

"Great," Kathryn says, turning on heel and heading out. "See you tonight," she calls behind her.

Once Kathryn is gone Emma looks at the invitation in her hand for a moment before crumpling it in her hand and throwing it into the trash.

"What did that invite ever do to you?" Killian asks, jokingly.

Emma looks at Killian for a moment before speaking, fingers twisting in the brown band at her wrist. "Mary Margaret likes David," she says quietly, "if she knew about the party she'd go and get her hopes up."

Killian nods, "But don't you think she should be able to decide if she wants to go to David's party herself?"

"David's having a party?" Mary Margaret asks, eyes lighting up as she enters the station.

Emma groans, glaring at Killian as though he did it on purpose. "Yeah," she says, "His wife Kathryn is throwing it as a welcome back sort of thing," Emma says, emphasizing the word wife though it seems like Killian's the only one to notice.

"Did she - can I go do you think?" Mary Margaret asks.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asks, somewhat rudely, but Mary Margaret is clearly used to the abrasiveness of her roommate. "Shouldn't you be at the school?"

"The kids have art after lunch and recess today so I have a longer lunch," she says, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Figured I'd drop by and see what you two were up to. Anyway did Kathryn say anything about me coming?" Mary Margaret presses and Emma visibly sags.

"She said to tell you you're invited," Emma says begrudgingly.

Mary Margaret smiles and looks between them. "Oh okay, yes that's good. I'll - I'm going to go now, I'll see you both at the party tonight okay?"

Without waiting for an answer Mary Margaret is out the door and the full force of Emma's rage is turned to him. "I blame you for this," she says.

Killian smiles, "I'll happily take the blame now if I can take the credit later when they get married."

That night Killian arrives to the party and the cookie cutter house is full of life. Each room is full to bursting with people laughing and chatting. There's soft music playing in the background and Kathryn is playing the attentive host, greeting him the moment he's through the door and offering him a glass of wine, which he refuses. Once Kathryn moves on to the next guests Killian realizes that he knows almost no one in the room - and that David is noticeably absent. 

Killian walks into the hall, further from most of the guests and hears voices coming from the kitchen. Darting a glance into the living room Killian heads into the kitchen and sees Emma, Mary Margaret and David. David, who's already smiling when Killian enters, smiles a bit wider and ushers Killian in.

"Killian, right?" he says, shaking Killian's hand with gusto. Killian nods. "I'm hiding back here with Mary Margaret and Emma," he confesses with a quick smile at Mary Margaret. "I'm supposed to know the people out there but..." he shrugs.

"I know that feeling mate," Killian says and David looks at him quizzically.

"I thought this was a small town," David says looking between them. "Don't you three know almost everyone out there?"

Mary Margaret nods, setting down the glass in her hands before heading off in search of the bathroom.

"Yeah," Emma agrees, glancing at Killian. "But Jones here is new to town, you probably know more people than him," she says knocking her shoulder into his and he smiles at her.

"I also happen to have amnesia as well, so I really know how you feel," Killian says with a wry grin as he steals a swig from Emma's beer that she must've found hidden away somewhere.

"Oh," David says, looking between Emma and Killian, "Did you forget Emma when you had your amnesia?"

Killian shakes his head and hands Emma her beer back, "I've still got amnesia, I can't remember much of anything before coming to Storybrooke."

"So you might be married to someone you don't remember too," David says and Killian hums noncommittally, fighting the urge to run his fingertips over the heart tattoo on his forearm just peeking out from the end of his sleeve. David is leaning against the kitchen counter and quiets as the kitchen door swings open and Kathryn pops in to grab another bottle of wine.

"What're you three doing hiding out in here," she asks, opening a cabinet and pulling out a couple glasses, holding them by the stems. "Come out and join the party," she says before disappearing back into the fray without waiting for an answer.

Emma tilts her head back, tipping the contents of the beer bottle back and Killian wonders how much convincing it took on Mary Margaret's part to even get her to show up.

David clears his throat. "So it doesn't bother you?" he says. "The fact that you might be married and you're with Emma now?"

Emma chokes, her face beet red as she coughs on inhaled beer and Killian's brain is slow to process David's words. When he realizes the implications he knows a blush is creeping up his own face as Emma controls her choking cough.

"Err," Killian says reaching up to tug on his ear. "Emma and I aren't together mate, we just work together."

"Yes," Emma says vehemently and Killian wonders if she's thinking back to this morning when he asked her out. He wonders just how much he wears his heart on his sleeve if this near stranger can read him so openly. Then he suddenly thinks of the heart tattooed on his literal sleeve and he bursts out laughing for absolutely no reason at all except that now that he's started he can't seem to stop the loud guffaws.

"Okay," Emma says sounding slightly offended and that snaps him out of his laughter. "It's not that ridiculous. I mean you did ask me out, so...” 

He straightens immediately and wipes a stray tear from his eye.

"You asked her out?" Mary Margaret asks excitedly as she reenters the room, "Emma, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter," Emma says harshly.

Killian cringes at her response, but after his display it’s not exactly undeserved. "Sorry love," he says, "I wasn't laughing at the idea of us - I was just," he doesn't want to show them his tattoo, he doesn't want the questions, but at the same time he really doesn't want her to think that he was laughing at the idea of them together. "I was thinking that if Dave here could see something between us I must really wear my heart on sleeve and that struck me as funny because well," Killian pulls up his sleeve just a bit so the bottom of the heart and dagger show, but the name is still covered. "I actually do - wear my heart on my sleeve that is," he coughs and pulls the sleeve back into place.

"That isn't even funny," Emma says and she's pissed he can tell.

"I know, it isn't," he says, stepping towards her and is bolstered when she doesn't step away at least. "Emma," he says her name and she meets his gaze challengingly. "I hope you know that I would never laugh at the thought of you honoring me with a place in your heart." He keeps his gaze steady on hers, trying to convey his sincerity and hoping he didn't muck things up too much by laughing.

It feels like there's a magnetic charge between them, alternately pushing them apart and drawing them together and Killian seems to keep getting stuck in the pull. She sways towards him a bit and nods her understanding. The door to the kitchen swings open, straining the hinges beneath the force and they jump apart.

"Hi!" Henry says, blissfully oblivious to the tension he just walked in on.

"Henry," Emma says and she steps back again, putting even more space between them. "What're you doing here?"

Killian hazards a glance at David and Mary Margaret, embarrassed about their little display. He doesn't know why he was worried though, the two of them seem to be in their own world. Mary Margaret is standing next to David, as close as possible without touching, spinning the stem of her wine glass in her fingers. Their gazes are glued together as they speak softly.

"My mom came to the party because she's friends with Kathryn," Henry says, snapping Killian's attention back to Emma and the lad.

"If your mom is friends with Kathryn," Killian says, "why didn't she recognize David when she saw him in the hospital?"

Henry shrugs, unconcerned and it seems no one else is as fixated on why this is so strange as he is. "Anyway, she sent me back here to get you David," Henry says.

David's head snaps up at his name and he looks surprised to see Henry's entered the room. "What?" he says dazedly.

"My mom brought something she thought might jog your memory," Henry says excitedly and Killian knows the boy is hoping it'll jog his memory of being a prince rather than an animal shelter worker. "She told me to come get you and bring you out front."

Henry walks over and grabs David's hand, half dragging him towards the door. David shares a smile with Mary Margaret as they all follow Henry out onto the front lawn. Kathryn and Regina are standing next to the path, lit up by the dim streetlight. They both turn at the group's approach. Kathryn smiles widely at their approach. She and Regina step aside revealing an old windmill. The blue paint is faded and cracked. It looks as though a strong gust of wind could knock the blades from the base.

David freezes beside them, hand going limp in Henry's grasp. His gaze is far away from dimly lit streets on quiet corners. Mary Margaret fidgets uncertainly beside Emma. David walks forward almost as if in a trance and Regina and Kathryn hold their breath as he approaches silently. He stretches his hand out to the windmill and grazes his fingers along it gently. His eyes snap to focus a moment later and his gaze falls onto Kathryn.

"I remember," he says.

Kathryn gives a cry of joy and launches herself into his arms. David stumbles back at least three steps before finding his footing and wrapping his arms around Kathryn in a hug. A boney elbow jabs into Killian's side and he turns to Emma. Emma raises a brow and jerks her head in Mary Margaret's direction. Killian follows her gaze; Mary Margaret is smiling for the happy couple but it doesn't reach her eyes, hell it barely reaches her mouth. Her arms are tight around her middle and her smile is stiffly plastered onto her face.

Mary Margaret turns around and retreats into the house, Emma following soon after. Killian watches them go. He debates following them briefly before deciding that they'd probably prefer not having an audience. When Killian turns back Kathryn is finally releasing David from her embrace, but it's not that woman's happiness that catches his gaze. Regina's eyes are trained on the door that Mary Margaret and Emma just slipped into, with a smug smile.

In the three weeks following the Nolan's party, life falls back into some sort of rhythm. Even though Killian has his own apartment now, he finds himself at Granny's more than not, often enjoying a cup of coffee at the diner before ordering a bear claw to go for Emma once he arrives to work. He's fairly certain the woman would offer up her own soul for a bear claw in the morning so long as she doesn't have to wake up to go get it, and Killian is happy enough to oblige if it means he gets to be the reason for her smile.

He also, on more than one occasion in the weeks following the return of David's memories, has found himself over at Emma's apartment for some reason or another. The first time was because Mary Margaret invited him, Emma clearly hadn't expected him since she was clad only in a towel when he arrived.

The next time Henry invited him over to show him the storybook and compare the real life people to their drawn counterparts - Emma had a look on her face that clearly said she was only indulging this fantasy and Killian had better not encourage the kid, but Killian had to admit there was some resemblance between the prince and David.

Once even, over the following weeks, Emma herself invites Killian over. She says it is just because she needs his help with something regarding Mary Margaret, but the almost excessive casualness of her voice and the flush high on her cheeks is enough to make Killian’s stomach swoop at the invitation. 

"Hey," Emma says when he arrives at her door. "Beer?" She starts walking over to the fridge before waiting for a response. 

Killian hums with a nod as he sits down on the couch. His eyes stray to Emma’s phone, lying face down on the coffee table, and Killian hopes that it doesn’t ring to interrupt their not-date. Calls to the station are routed through to her cell when they're both away from the station and if the town can’t go one evening without a call to the sheriff about some stupid thing that would never warrant police presence in a bigger place then Killian is going personally find the criminal and dish out a bit of vigilante justice.

Killian gives up his staring match with her phone when Emma walks over and hands him a beer. A small smile flickers across her face as she sits down next to him. Killian finds his eyes tracking the movement of her lips and his mouth echoing her smile.

He looks away from her down at the drink in his hand and his stomach sinks a bit. The beer she handed him has a screw top which is more difficult for him than one requiring a bottle opener, or in his case a well-placed knock against a counter or barring that, his prosthetic. Killian sets the bottle between his knees and tries to twist it off with his hand but the bottle keeps slipping and turning between his knees as the cap does.

Gods after having his hand missing for as long as he can remember (aside from some rather fuzzy memories of having it amputated) he'd think he'd be used to being unable to do certain things by now. The bottle flies out of his grasp and rolls underneath the table. Killian flushes with embarrassment and mumbles an apology as he bends to pick it up.

"Here," Emma says, reaching out a hand for the bottle once he's retrieved it. "Let me give you a hand." The instant the words are out of her mouth her eyes flick up to his, wide and a bit nervous. She pulls her hand back slightly. "I didn't mean - err that's not to say."

And just like that the tension Killian felt seeping into his bones and knotting in his back rolls off of him like a bead of rain. He smiles. This is the first time she’s been legitimately flustered in front of him, and he’d kick himself later if he doesn’t soak it up when he has the chance. The blush that started high on her cheeks spreads to her neck and Killian wonders just how low it goes. Her own beer bottle sits on the table half forgotten, while her hand hovers between them in midair.

He thinks briefly about teasing her, but decides against it. "It's fine Swan, just hold the bottle in place and I've got it."

Emma does as he instructs and the bottle cap pops off with ease. "Remind me to never offer to open jars for you love," Killian says with a grin, "though I'm guessing a lass like you doesn't need help anyway."

She laughs and Killian’s heart goes a little unsteady at the sound. He looks away from her and deposits the cap on the table before taking the bottle from her.

"Damn right I don't," she says, and when Killian looks back at her she’s smiling mischievously. "Though maybe you do."

His eyebrows shoot to his forehead and he barks out a laugh. Flustered one moment and back to teasing the next, somehow Killian thinks he should’ve expected a reaction like that.

"Touché," he says and clinks his bottle together with hers. "So where's Mary Margaret this fine afternoon?"

Emma sighs as she sinks back further into the couch. "She's on a field trip with her class." Emma takes a long swig from her beer.

"Something you don't approve of?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

Emma shrugs and takes another sip, "I don't mind her taking the kids on a field trip, but when the field trip is to the animal shelter where David works ..." Emma shrugs again and wriggles around in her seat a bit, bringing her legs up underneath her.

"Ah I see," Killian says, noting that Emma's leg is now lightly resting against his. It’s a light enough touch that if his gaze didn’t flick down at her movement he might not have noticed it. He’s glad he did. 

"I just don't want her getting involved with a married man," Emma explains needlessly, "that's a bad idea, he's never gonna leave his wife for her and she's just going to get strung along."

"Alright so what can I do?" Killian shifts in his seat slightly so their legs are pressed together a bit more firmly and smiles to himself when she doesn't pull away.

"I don't know," Emma says, setting her empty bottle down onto the table. "Maybe help me set Mary Margaret up with someone who isn't married?"

Killian smiles and puts his beer down as well, turning to face Emma better. "While I'd love to help in that department, but I don't really know many people in this town - unless you were suggesting setting her up with me."

"No!" Emma says quickly. She blushes prettily as she reaches for her bottle on the table before realizing it’s empty and aborting the motion halfway through. "I mean - no that's not what I meant."

Killian had meant it as a joke but Emma's reaction is so strong and immediate that he has to bite back a smile.

"Well what did you have in mind?"

Emma twists to face him. "I don't know. I figured you could ask around, try to find out if there's anyone single around here that would be a good match for her. Someone who's kind and believes in hope," she waves a hand dismissively, "that sort of thing."

"Sure I'll do it," Killian says. He finds the knowledge that she could have asked him to do almost anything and he would have agreed just as readily slightly overwhelming. So he chooses to ignore it. "But may I ask why you aren't going to do it on your own?"

"I don't want people to think I'm asking for myself," Emma shudders, "I get enough well-meaning citizens trying to set me up as it is. I thought about asking Ruby or Ashley, but Ruby would've thought it was for me and Ashley would have started talking about True Love - and that is something I definitely cannot handle." Emma says, shrugging. "Anyway that left you."

"Well I'm glad to know I'm you last choice," Killian says with mock sincerity. “It’s always nice to feel wanted.”

Emma bumps her shoulder into his and coming from anyone else Killian would think the gesture playful. Killian hides his smile behind the rim of his bottle as he takes another sip. Emma stands and Killian feels the loss of her beside him keenly. The way he’s so aware of her scares him.

“Want another?” Emma asks, tilting her head to his nearly empty bottle.

He nods and watches her retreat into the kitchen for another. Killian finds his gaze wandering around the apartment. It’s easy to spot Mary Margaret’s influence on the place, a quilt lying across the edge of the bed, an antique table with four mismatched chairs, and nearly a dozen photos of her and Henry scattered throughout the place.

There’s only one photo of Emma, that Killian can spot at least. It’s on the end table next to the couch in a black frame that someone must have painted blue long ago judging from the way the paint is chipped and peeling. Killian picks up the picture. There is a man standing slightly behind Emma with dark denim jeans and a brown leather jacket. His curly brown hair is in the sort of disarray that is never intentional, but the look clearly becomes the man. His arm is slung around Emma’s shoulders in a form of casual affection that makes Killian’s heart ache for - something he can’t remember ever having. The most notable thing is the man’s eyes. While they are a dark deep brown, they shine out from the faded photograph, completely, overwhelmingly full of love and absolute joy.

The Emma in the picture has her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with strands sticking out every which way. Her clothes are far too loose and she isn’t even looking at the camera but gods her smile is radiant. She looks so in love that it makes Killian feel as though he’s intruding on a private moment just by looking at the picture.

He sets the photo down gently and when he looks up Emma is standing frozen before him. Her arm is outstretched with an already open beer clutched tightly in her hand.

“Thanks,” Killian says a bit uncomfortably as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t and takes the beer from her.

Emma shakes herself out of her stupor and takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. Killian feels the loss of her by his side as though it were a physical blow.

“Yeah I don’t know why Mary Margaret insists on keeping that picture on display,” Emma says shaking her head. She takes a long sip of her drink. “I look like a mess - I’d only brought Henry home two nights before.”

“Perhaps she keeps it out for your boy,” Killian says, wary of scaring Emma to retreat further into her shell. “That’s his father, aye?”

Emma nods and takes another long swig from her bottle, peeling at the label absently. Maybe Mary Margaret keeps the picture out partially for Henry’s benefit, but Killian wouldn’t be surprised if it was for Emma’s as well - to remind her that maybe she can open herself up again and find happiness. Killian shakes away the heavy thoughts and takes a sip of his drink.

“I know what it’s like,” Killian says, words spilling out of nowhere. But once he begins, they ring true and he can’t seem to stop. “I may not be able to remember her, but I know that I loved her more than anything,” Killian swallows hard but plows on, “and that losing her destroyed me. Maybe losing her is what caused my amnesia,” Killian shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Emma stands up and moves back to sit next to him on the couch and Killian considers it a victory no matter how small. “What was - do you remember what her name was?” Emma asks.

“Aye,” he nods solemnly rolling up his sleeve, “how could I forget?”

Emma’s gaze is intense on his face for a moment longer before dipping down to focus on the tattoo imprinted on his skin. Her fingers reach out and trail lightly over the outline of the dagger and Killian shivers. She yanks her hand back, and he can tell she has an apology ready on her lips but he grabs her hand with his.

“It’s alright love,” he whispers, afraid anything louder will break whatever fragile thing is happening. “It was a long time ago.”

He may not remember much, but he knows from the faded edges of the tattoo and the scabbed over hurt he feels at the mention of her that it has been a long time since she’d been taken from him.

“I guess we have more in common than I thought,” Emma clears her throat and extracts her hand from his. “You said you had a shitty childhood too?”

“Well I don’t remember much,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

The ticking clock seems unnaturally loud in the quiet apartment. Killian wonders absently when Mary Margaret is coming back.

“But from what I do remember, maybe it’s a blessing to not know more.” Killian shrugs.

Emma gives him a look that he knows means she gets it.

“I had a family once - parents, a brother I think,” he says, unable to hold Emma’s gaze.

“Do you know what happened to them?” Emma asks softly.

Killian shakes his head.

“Do you want to?”

Killian’s head snaps up and his gaze locks onto hers. “What?”

Emma smiles a little self-consciously, “I’m pretty good at finding people, I could try to look for them for you, if you want?”

“I -" Killian’s at a loss for words, “you’d really do that for me?” he asks finally.

“Yeah,” Emma says a little breathlessly, eyes flicking downwards for just an instant before snapping back up to meet his. “Don’t make it into some big thing though Jones, alright?” she says.

And while Killian is almost positive she doesn’t realize she’s doing it, her hand is resting on top of his knee and they’ve both leaned in close enough that he can feel the warm puff of breath on her shaky exhale.

“I’d like that,” he says.

He feels intoxicated on her, Emma filling and overwhelming each one of his senses. He isn’t even sure what he’s agreeing to anymore but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Her thumb rubs (what must surely be unconscious) tiny little circles in the dark material of his jeans and he wants - god he wants to kiss her. She leans in a little further and he finds himself tilting in as well. He reaches out a tentative hand and brushes his fingers along the edge of her jaw. Her eyes close in response and he echoes her movement, hand resting cupped on her cheek as he leans in.

The door flies open hitting the wall behind it so hard it reverberates throughout the room and they spring apart guiltily. Regina is standing in the doorway, fuming.

“Where is Henry?” she asks, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

Emma jumps up from the couch and Killian follows suit. “Wow Regina do you ever knock?” Emma says, her voice is hard and tight.

“Where is my son?” Regina repeats and the words are spoken low and dangerous.

“He’s on a fieldtrip with his class,” Emma relents. Her gaze is fixed firmly on Regina and with the tension radiating from Emma Killian knows in that moment that any progress they may have made tonight will be gone by morning.

 Regina stomps her heel against the hardwood floor, “And where is this field trip?”

Killian feels out of place in this feud among mothers, but stands his ground next to Emma as she lies unflinchingly, “I don’t know, he’s probably on his way to your house now anyway.”

Regina huffs unhappily and spins around to leave without so much as a goodbye. The air in the apartment is thick with tension, but it doesn’t seem to be of a sexual nature any longer - Killian wonders if it ever was. Emma walks to the door and closes it behind Regina, finally turning around to face Killian.

Even though she’s facing him, her eyes are downcast as she speaks, “Well thanks for coming over Killian, keep me updated on the search for a date for Mary Margaret.” Her gaze flicks up to a spot just over Killian’s left shoulder. He knows when he’s being dismissed.

“Thanks for the beer Swan,” he says, grabbing his jacket from behind the door.

He slips his jacket on once more and turns towards her to say goodbye. Her eyes quickly flick away from him. He feels off balance with the thought that perhaps she’d been staring.

 “Goodbye love,” he says and she nods in response, eyes just barely catching his and Killian’s stomach does a little somersault that feels a lot like hope.

The following few days Killian keeps his eyes out for men that might be a good fit for Mary Margaret and realizes that this place is severely lacking.

After several days of fruitless searching, Killian decides that it’s time to enlist some help. Ruby knows everyone in town, Killian is sure, and if Emma doesn’t want Ruby to know who he’s asking for, he just won’t tell her.

After work that Wednesday evening, Killian heads to the diner and takes a seat at the end of the counter where Ruby is perched.

“Hey Killian,” she says pulling a notepad out of her pocket, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m looking for a man,” he says, not even bothering to lower his voice since he’s sure that the hum of noise coming from the other patrons drowns him out.

Ruby’s eyes shoot up to her forehead and she lets out a little surprised, “Oh.” She smiles at him, leaning on the counter conspiratorially. “And you’d like my help in this pursuit?”

Killian nods, “Aye, I figured a lass as charming as you surely knows just about everyone in this town.”

She nods and straightens up as Granny walks past before leaning in again when the old woman is preoccupied with another customer. “Sure, what’re you looking for - you like sailing right? I remember Henry going on and on about you taking him sailing.”

Killian is a bit confused at the change of topic but nods anyway, making a mental note to take the boy out again. “Someone who’s handsome, and kind,” Killian pauses thinking of what else Mary Margaret might want - what she sees in David, “someone who believes in hope,” he finishes.

Ruby has a big shit-eating grin on her face and says, “I know exactly who. I’ll talk to him and see about setting it up so you can meet, how’s tomorrow at 5:00 work?”

Killian nods with a smile, and if he’s being honest he’s more than a little bit pleased with himself at his accomplishment.

The next day at work Killian brags a bit - he can’t help it. Things have felt so awkward between them since their almost kiss and teasing Emma about his success (at least this far) with a date for Mary Margaret eases the tension that’s been wedged between them. 

“So who is this guy?” Emma asks, while they patrol the streets on yet another slow day at work.

Killian shrugs, “I don’t know yet, but if things go well when we meet tonight we can set him up with Mary Margaret and poof no more pining over David.”

Emma rolls her eyes at him. “You seem pretty confident for someone who hasn’t even met the guy yet.”

Killian bumps her shoulder playfully and smiles a bit to himself when she bumps back into him. “Just wait until after tonight love and you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“You want to bet?” she says. Her eyes are bright with the promise of a challenge and who is he to deny her.

“What do you propose?” he asks, and so what if his voice is laden with innuendo.

“If the guy’s not a good fit for Mary Margaret then you have to bring me breakfast every day for a month,” she says with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

Killian stops walking and turns to face her, Emma follows suit. “And if I win?”

Emma shrugs. “Then I’ll go on a date with you,” she says, continuing on walking as though nothing happened.

Killian stands behind her for a few long moments, dumbstruck. If he could have chosen he probably would have picked her doing his paperwork from the latest incident he’d handled involving a couple men in a bar scuffle. He wouldn’t have forced a date onto her - he wants to win her heart not by any trickery but because she wants him - but the thing is, maybe she already does.

That night when Killian stands to slip into his jacket and head to the diner Emma, stands as well.

“What’re you doing love?” He asks as she shuts off the lights inside the station and follows him out to the sidewalk.

Emma’s boots clack on the sidewalk as she falls into step with him. “What’s it look like? I’m going to go see this guy.”

Killian begins to protest but Emma cuts him off. “I’m not going to talk to him or anything. I definitely still don’t want Ruby to think he’s a date for me, I just want to see if I win the bet or not and this way you can’t cheat.”

The bell jingles to the door of the diner and Killian holds it open for Emma. She smirks at him as she passes him and plops down in a seat at the counter. He heads over to an empty table to wait to meet this guy for Mary Margaret. Killian catches his gaze drifting over to where Emma is seated more than once and he can’t help wondering if Emma wants to win the bet or not.

A few minutes after Ruby stops by with a cup of coffee for him and a wink, the door opens again to reveal a tall, dark haired man. Killian looks at the guy appraisingly, noticing his broad shoulders and strong arms. His face is open and kind and he smiles as soon as he sees Killian, heading over to the table briskly.

“Eric,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake. “You must be Killian.”

Killian reaches out and clasps his hand, pleased to find that it’s not at all sweaty. His grip is firm and sure - he has to resist sending a self-satisfied grin Emma’s way.

“Aye,” he says, as Eric takes a seat across from him, “it’s good to meet you.”

Eric smiles and his teeth are very bright and perfectly straight, and Killian smiles back. He puts an imaginary check in his mental ‘win the bet and beat Emma’ column. Ruby comes over to take their order then and smiles a little bit smugly at Killian. He chooses to ignore her.  

Over the course of their meal Killian can’t stop smiling because he knows he’s going to beat Emma. The man works at the docks - which might not necessarily be a requirement to date Mary Margaret, but it’s definitely a perk. He has a dog named Max, which means he is responsible for something other than himself - plus Mary Margaret seems the sort to like animals, since she did fall for a man who runs an animal shelter. Eric is smart and kind and can hold a decent conversation asking as many questions about Killian as he does him. Best of all, he definitely seems the type to believe in hope and True Love - Killian has clearly won.

When Eric gets up to use the restroom Emma plops down in his seat. Killian beams at her. “So Emma, what do you think?”

“Okay, okay,” she says waving her hand at his face, “Don’t look so smug. Just ask him if he would be interested in Mary Margaret and then we can set up their date,” she says with a huff.

“Hmm,” Killian says, leaning back in his chair a bit. “And what about our date then?”

“You haven’t won yet buddy,” she says with no real venom. “First you’ve got to get him to agree to go out with Mary Margaret.” She leaps up, chair scraping the linoleum as she does so, “He’s coming back,” she says quickly before returning to her seat.

Eric sits back in his seat and smiles at Killian.

“So,” Killian says, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “Do you know Mary Margaret Blanchard?”

Eric cocks his head to the side in confusion and Killian almost laughs at his resemblance to a dog. “The teacher?”

“Aye,” Killian nods, “petite, short black hair.”

“I’ve seen her around before, why?”

“Well she’s a good friend of mine,” Killian says and he tugs his ear uncomfortably, “and I was hoping to find someone who might be interested in - “

Eric’s eyes grow wide in comprehension and the pleasant (if slightly confused) expression falls off his face.

“Let me stop you right there,” he says with a hand help up in supplication.

Killian stops talking and hazards a quick glance to Emma who looks just as bewildered as he feels.

“I am not interested in some weird ménage-a-trois with you and your friend,” he places air quotes around the word friend and Killian feels his jaw drop, but cannot seem to bring it closed. “Just because I’m bi - god okay Ruby told me you were a nice guy interested in a date, I shouldn’t have,” he grumbles in frustration and moves to stand.

Killian stands so quickly he knocks into the table loudly before he catches Eric's arm. “Eric, stop,” he says, intimately aware of the stares they are drawing. “You’ve got it all wrong mate.”

Eric pauses and looks at him, waiting.

“I don’t want a threesome either,” someone wolf whistles from behind him and Killian is fairly sure it’s that ass Leroy, but he plows on either way. “I wanted to set you up with Mary Margaret.”

“So you aren’t involved in this at all?” Eric asks, jacket half on as he stands frozen in the middle of the diner.

Killian shakes his head, blood thrumming through his veins almost violently.

“Mary Margaret isn’t after a threesome either?”

“No. No threesomes whatsoever,” Killian says and his face is burning. He’s fairly certain even the tips of his ears have gone pink. “So what d’you say mate?”

Eric shakes his head and the smile is back, though it’s slightly more self-deprecating this time. “I’m not really interested in the school teacher type, but if you ever change your mind Killian, you know where to find me.” With that he throws a couple bills on the table and leaves the diner.

Killian’s face is on fire and he spots Ruby out of the corner of his eye, frozen mid pour in shock.

“Bloody hell Ruby,” he says and she snaps out of her stupor.

She sets the pot down and comes out from behind the counter quickly, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the hallway leading to the B&B.

“I’m so sorry Killian,” she says sincerely. “I thought you were asking for yourself.”

“Why the bloody hell would you think that?”

Ruby scowls at him and puts a finely manicured hand on her hip, “You came in my diner telling me, and I quote, that you are looking for a man - what was I supposed to think?!” She shakes her head and quiets as a patron passes them to head to the restroom. “Plus you’ve been here for months now and not once have you shown interest in any woman in town - other than your boss which I don’t think counts -” she cuts off abruptly and looks at Killian with startling intensity. “Oh,” she says quietly, “oh I’m so dumb. I get it now - you’re in love with Em-”

“Well I should be going,” Killian says abruptly turning on heel and leaving before giving her a chance to finish that sentence.

Emma catches up to him once he’s outside the diner and the instant their eyes meet she bursts out laughing. “Oh my god Killian,” she says breathlessly. “You were on the date, oh my god,” she wipes tears from her eyes.

“You are never going to let me live this down are you love?” And even though her laughter is at his expense, when she’s this carefree and happy Killian can’t find it in himself to mind.

Emma shakes her head, hand resting on his bicep for support as she takes big gulping breaths of air to regain her composure.

“I guess this means you win love. Does a bear claw sound like a good breakfast for tomorrow or would you rather have pancakes?”

Emma’s hand drops from his arm and she straightens, all traces of humor slipping off of her face. “A bear claw sounds good to me Jones,” she says. “Guess we’ll have to keep looking for a date for Mary Margaret.”

Killian hums in agreement as the woman in question walks past them without a second glance. Her eyes are glued to David, who is walking alone across the street. David stumbles on the uneven sidewalk before quickly righting himself. Killian has a feeling the trip was caused by David watching Mary Margaret instead of where he was going.

“Aye,” he says, turning to Emma, “I suppose we do.”

That weekend Killian takes Henry sailing again. While Killian may or may not be avoiding Eric by the docks Henry says something that gets him thinking. The boy points out that Mary Margaret’s affections aren’t exactly one sided and Killian is both surprised and not surprised at all that Henry was observant enough to realize it. Killian hadn’t noticed before, but now that he’s looking he can’t not see it. David pines after Mary Margaret just as much as she does him. Every day that following week when Killian goes to Granny’s in the morning before work to get Emma’s breakfast, he sees both Mary Margaret and David.

The two are obviously sticking to a strict routine in the hopes of seeing each other. One morning Mary Margaret must be running late because she’s not there when Killian enters the diner. Ten minutes later the bell chimes above the door as David enters with a smile crinkling his eyes. His eyes scan the room and he visibly sags. David heads over to the counter to place his order, spotting Killian and sending him a halfhearted wave on his way. David orders a coffee to go and is slipping back out of the diner a moment later. Killian huffs in annoyance and leaps up from his seat, running out of Granny’s to catch David. 

“David,” Killian calls, causing the man to stop and face him.

“Hi Killian,” David says, glancing at the car where Katherine is surely waiting.

“Can I,” Killian scratches behind his ear. “Can I talk to you for a minute mate?” he says stepping to the side a bit so they’re hidden from the street by Granny’s trellis.

“Sure,” David says, stepping forward so he too is hidden from view of the car. “What’s up?”

“You’re falling for Mary Margaret, aren’t you?” he says, deciding to just get this over with.

David splutters for a moment but Killian holds up a hand to halt his denial. “I’m not judging you; I just have a piece of advice for you. You remember loving Katherine now that you have your memories back, right?”

David nods cautiously.

Killian takes a deep breath and with fear of getting far too involved in someone else’s business he continues. “Just because you used to love her and you remember loving her doesn’t mean you love her now - and it doesn’t make the love you felt for her in the past any less real. I’d hazard a guess that you’re a different man now than the man that loved her. Perhaps you should move on - I’m not saying that you need to make a move on Mary Margaret or anything of the sort, but if you are falling for her it’s not fair to anyone involved to stay with Katherine out of some twisted sense of duty.” He puts a hand on David’s shoulder, “I’ve a spare room if you need it mate.”

David’s face grows progressively redder as Killian’s speaks and he fears the man just may hit him when he shakes Killian’s hand off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he spits before spinning away and marching to the waiting car.

The door to the car slams a moment later and Killian is left frozen on the patio outside of Granny’s. He likes Dave, he likes the friendship that had been blooming between them, but he can’t bring himself to regret his actions when he knows that he’s right. There’s no point in staying true to someone you used to love when you’ve moved on - hell surely Katherine doesn’t want David to stay with her unless he wants to.

Two days later Killian is alone in his apartment when he hears banging at the door. He gets up off the couch and pads over to the entrance. He pulls open the door and David is standing there in the pouring rain, absolutely drenched with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

He clears his throat and smiles at Killian a little uncertainly. “Is that spare room still available?”

David, stubborn arse that he is doesn’t admit that Killian is what convinced him to leave, but Killian doesn’t care if he gets the credit, he’s just happy that the man did the honorable thing. Dave doesn’t even go after Mary Margaret right away, though Killian can tell he wants to.

The following morning when Killian arrives to work he can’t really help his smug smile which Emma of course notices.

“Why’re you so chipper today?” she grumbles as he sets a muffin down on the desk in front of her.

He debates on whether or not it’s his news to tell before deciding that he can’t keep it a secret. “David slept over at my place last night.”

“Wow,” Emma says, head perking up from where she’d had it lain down on the desk, “I’m surprised you’re moving so fast. You only just broke up with Eric.”

“Har har, Swan,” Killian says, taking his own seat. “He and Katherine split up and he’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

Emma’s eyebrows raised and she was fully alert now. “You broke them up?”

Her voice is a little accusatory but Killian doesn’t shy away from it. “Aye, well I just spoke with Dave, gave him some advice. Any decisions he made thereafter were his own.”

Emma pauses for a moment, looking at him intensely before huffing out a breath and nodding once.

“I guess it is better than whatever weird thing they had going on, plus,” she adds, growing on the idea, “it’s way better than Mary Margaret getting involved with a married man. Just don’t - don’t tell Mary Margaret just yet, I don’t want her to get together with him two seconds after he and Katherine broke up.”

Killian nods and rubs at the brace of his prosthetic, ghost pains bothering him more than usual today. “I can’t make any promises for Dave though.”

Just then the phone rings, an issue with Leroy and Walter getting into a scuffle downtown. Killian gets up to go investigate when Emma stops him.

“I can handle this on my own,” she says, “man the station while I’m gone.”

Killian nods, but can’t help being a little disappointed that he won’t get to spend time with her. He rocks back into his chair and settles in for a long, boring morning.

Twenty minutes after Emma left the phone rings. Mr. Gold is on the other end and saying something about Henry running off to investigate the mine tunnels that run beneath the town and before the man’s even finished speaking, Killian’s racing out of the station and down to the mines. Killian calls Emma while he’s on his way but has to leave a voicemail explaining what’s going on.

The place is old and abandoned, clearly not in working order anymore with faded warning signs plastered around the entrance. As he’s parking the car he spots Henry, backpack slung over his shoulder, running towards the entrance.

“Henry,” Killian calls, jumping out of his car, not even bothering to shut the door before sprinting towards the lad.

Henry turns over his shoulder and quickly darts into the mines. Killian huffs out in exasperation, turning to grab the flashlight in the glove compartment before sprinting to follow. Killian calls out for Henry as he breaches the entrance to the mines. The sudden darkness is nearly blinding.

Killian clicks on the flashlight and it flickers to life. Killian walks as briskly as he dares deeper into the mines. The place is dimly lit from the glow of his flashlight and he fears if he runs too quickly he’ll trip over the rusted old tracks. He calls out for Henry a couple more times and even though the boy doesn’t answer, he hears the clatter feet disturbing rocks ahead and follows the sound.

Left, left, right, left, straight, Killian catalogs the turns he makes, trying desperately to remember the way back out. He doesn’t even know how Henry got so far ahead of him, but the sound of Henry’s footsteps are not getting any more distant at least. He calls out to Henry again and suppresses a groan of frustration when the boy ignores him again.

“Lad,” Killian calls out into the darkness, he’s beginning to feel winded and knows Henry must be tiring as well. “We could do this all day, or you could stop and talk to me. Perhaps I can help. But either way this place is dangerous and I’d feel much better if we at least traversed it together.”

The pitter patter of feet ahead of him skids to a stop and Killian lets out a breath of relief. “You’ll help me?” Henry calls back, small voice nearly getting lost in the cavernous tunnels.

“Aye,” Killian responds walking slowly towards Henry’s voice, wary of any sound that may spook the boy into delving deeper into the tunnels. “I’d much prefer to help you in the light of day,” he says lightly, “but if my only choice is letting you wander off into the tunnels alone or helping you - then I’m damn well going to help you.”

Killian turns a corner and his flashlight catches on Henry’s form. Killian feels his heart thunder just a little less loudly now that he knows the boy is more or less safe. He’ll worry about Emma’s wrath for cursing in front of the lad later.

“Okay,” Henry nods, stepping forward towards him, light from his own flashlight beam crossing Killian’s. “Let’s go this way,” he says, starting to plod off further into the darkness.

“Wait, wait lad,” Killian says grabbing onto a loose strap of Henry’s backpack causing the boy to jerk to a stop. “Have you thought about how you’re going to get back out?”

Henry nods and smiles at Killian. He pushes his hand forward and unclenches his fist revealing what appears to be cracker crumbs. “I took a page from the storybook,” he says, clearly proud of himself.

Killian tilts his flashlight down and turns to look behind him. There’s a skinny trail of crumbs leading back the way they came and even though it’s stupid and dangerous he can’t help but feel some small amount of pride.

“Well why are we even down here?” Killian asks, doing his best to still sound cross since surely the lad’s mother has gotten the message and is frantic by now.

“Mr. Gold said,” Henry begins and why the fuck is Killian not even surprised that that psycho had something to do with leading a child down into the abandoned mines, “that I needed proof the town was cursed if I wanted anyone to believe me and that I might find proof down here.”

“Henry,” Killian says placing a placating hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The mines are dangerous; can’t you look for evidence above ground?”

“But look,” the boy says, swinging his backpack around to his front. He rifles through it for a minute before pulling out a small piece of stained glass. “I found it a little way back - it means we’re onto something, come on.”

The boy starts down the tunnel again and Killian races to catch up to him. “There are plenty of reasons that glass might be down here Henry, and I really must insist we go back to the entrance before something bad happens.”

The moment the words leave his mouth the ground beneath them begins to shake. The walls and cavernous ceiling start shaking a heartbeat later. Killian dives for Henry and shields the boy with his body as rocks and dust come crashing down around them.

After what seems to be an eternity the shaking stops and the dust settles. Killian shifts off of Henry and offers a hand to help him up. The boy coughs once and his eyes widen as he looks behind Killian.

“Uh oh,” he says, pointing.

Killian knows before he sees it but it still sends his stomach plummeting when he turns to see that the tunnel behind them is completely closed off from the fallen rubble. There’s a space at the top that is too small for even the lad and Killian knows that shifting the rocks to make it bigger could be a dangerous endeavor, one that he will only do as a last resort.

“Let’s see if there isn’t a way out a bit deeper, eh lad?” Killian asks, forcing joviality into his voice in an effort to not scare the boy.

Henry begins walking ahead of Killian, much less enthusiastic than a few minutes ago. Killian pulls out his phone and flicks it open, hoping against hope there’s a signal. The light from the screen is almost blinding in the near blackness and Killian shields it hoping Henry won’t notice his desperation. A single solitary bar flicks at the screen before disappearing completely. Killian suppresses a groan of frustration.

When he looks up from the phone Henry is standing stock still, eyes wide and almost black in the darkness. “This is bad, isn’t it?” his voice is small and his eyes are wide. Killian sometimes forgets that Henry’s only ten years old, but right now he seems even younger.

“I’ve been in tighter spots before,” he says in lieu of an answer. “Let’s keep moving.”

Henry stays much closer to Killian as they move into the darkness. After a few moments of walking with nothing more than the occasional rock shift disrupting the silence, the police radio attached to Killian’s hip crackles briefly to life.

Killian and Henry freeze, but as quick as it comes the radio is silent again. They are standing at an intersection, one path branching off to the right, the other leading straight. Killian’s hair blows into his face and he spits a particularly long strand out of his mouth as he tries to concentrate on what to do when it hits him. A faint breeze is coming from the tunnel to the right.

“Henry,” Killian says, flicking off his flashlight. “Turn off your torch for a moment lad.”

Henry looks at him in confusion for a moment before making a soft oh sound and switching his light off as well.

“Do you see that?” Killian says a few moments later when their eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

“There’s a light,” Henry says in wonder, “a little light that way.”

“Which means,” Killian prompts.

“That there must be a way out over there,” Henry finishes, proud of himself as they flick their lights back on.

“Right you are lad,” Killian says, ruffling Henry’s hair as they turn down the tunnel.

The radio crackles twice more as they walk further down the path but by the time Killian brings the walkie talkie up to his mouth it’s silent each time. But Killian isn’t too concerned about the radio though since the path grows progressively lighter as they walk further. As they walk deeper the radio crackles again, but this time Killian can make out Emma’s garbled voice.

He presses the button on the side and pulls it close to his lips. “Say again Emma,” he says loudly into the device.

There’s a trace of franticness to her voice when it comes over the line, but Killian remains frozen in place, wary of losing the signal. “Killian are - Henry - with - okay?” Her voice cuts in and out but Killian gets the gist.

“I’m with Henry,” he says, “we’re okay.”

“Say again,” she says and he has to repeat himself twice more before she understands. “We’re going to look - way - our end.”

Henry smiles at Killian and they begin walking again, closer to the light and fresh air. There’s a bend in the path and the fresh air is so strong now that Killian’s sure the exit must be just around that turn. Henry picks up the pace and Killian would bet anything the boy is starting to feel claustrophobic after being trapped for so long, he knows he is.  Killian quickens his own pace to keep up with the boy and skids to a stop around the corner nearly smacking into Henry.

“Why’d you sto-” Killian begins to say before he notices the decrepit elevator ahead of them - and more importantly, the dead end. “Oh.”

Henry steps forward into the elevator and he’s bathed in a glow of light. The boy tilts his head back and peers up the shaft. “There’s the way out,” he says despondently, pointing up.

Killian takes a step forward into the elevator as well. It creaks under his weight and Killian suddenly realizes that they are not on the bottom level. He looks up and sees what surely must be a heavy metal grate covering the opening at least two stories above them. He groans, there’s no way they can climb that far.

There’s a rumbling noise from above and a moment later the whole world is shaking again - an aftershock to the earthquake, surely. The elevator shifts beneath them and Henry grabs onto Killian’s waist for dear life. Killian braces them both against the metal edge of the elevator as it drops down at least a half dozen feet and traps them halfway between two floors.

“Uh oh,” Henry says once the ground stops moving beneath them. “What do we do now?”

Killian has no clue; they are essentially trapped - worse than before. Perhaps if he can climb onto the top of the elevator he could pull himself up the exposed elevator shaft to the floor they were just on, but there’s no way Henry would be able to make the climb, and Killian doesn’t think he’d be able to lift Henry up one handed. 

“Now,” Killian says, reaching for the radio once more and praying that its connection is still sound. “We wait for your mom to rescue us - because that’s what she does.”

Henry nods with such faith in him that it nearly sends Killian to his knees. He presses the button and speaks into the radio. “Swan. Emma, you there?”

He releases his hold on the button and holds his breath as the radio crackles nothing but dead airwaves. Then, after a long moment it comes to life and Emma’s voice comes through.

“Killian, Killian! Are you guys okay? There was an aftershock up here that was pretty bad.” Her voice comes in clearer now than it had in the tunnel and for that Killian is grateful.

“We’re okay Swan,” he says, passing a glance at Henry who is remarkably calm for someone trapped in an elevator at least two stories below ground. “We seem to have gotten stuck in an elevator though. So some assistance would be much appreciated.”

“Okay,” Emma says, clearly trying and failing to remain calm. “Okay, Regina’s got the blueprints here - “

“Are you talking to Henry, give me that,” Regina’s voice comes through the walkie talkie, “Henry? Henry?”

“You have to let go of the button,” Emma says in the background, clearly annoyed.

The radio goes silent and Killian hands Henry the device. “Mom?” Henry says, letting go of the button.

Regina and Emma both try to talk over one another before it’s only Regina’s voice coming through. Killian’s hand balls into a fist as he pictures the woman ripping the device away from Emma. He tries to listen to the background noises as Henry speaks with his mother and he’s almost certain that at least half the town is involved in Henry’s rescue.

There’s a creaking groan and the elevator shifts again. Killian thrusts out his hand to brace himself on the metal edge. It stings as they shift a few feet lower. During the shift Henry loses his grasp on the walkie talkie and it goes clattering down the shaft so far that Killian can only barely hear the thud it makes as it hits the bottom.

“Oops,” Henry says, looking at Killian once the elevator settles.

“It’s alright lad,” Killian says on a sigh, tilting his head back to gaze upward. “They’ll find us.”

The grate letting in a small amount of light shifts and is removed fully. The sudden influx of light nearly blinds him.

A moment later Emma appears in the opening, backlit by a halo of sunlight and Killian has never been quite so pleased to see someone in his entire life. Once Killian’s eyes adjust to the light he can see that she is attached to some sort of rigging and is being slowly lowered into the hole.

Her descent is slow and steady and it’s a few long minutes before she reaches them. She is balanced on the edge of the elevator’s frame above them and Henry nearly jumps for joy. Killian puts his hand and prosthetic on either side of the boy and hoists him up in one smooth motion, not wanting to delay this any longer.

“Hello Swan,” he says casually. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She rolls her eyes as she reaches down and collects Henry from his grasp. She secures him to her harness so he’s hooked perched halfway between her hip and back. “I’ll come back down for you okay?” she says, reaching for the radio connected to her waist to tell them to pull her back up when the elevator gives an almighty groan. Killian scrambles so he’s standing on top of the frame of the elevator as well.

“If it’s all the same to you Swan,” he says, “I think I’d like to go now.”

Her eyes widen at the groaning and shifting of the elevator beneath them and she reaches out a hand to him. He steps closer and is just securing his arms around her and Henry both when the cord connected to the elevator finally gives and the thing goes crashing down.

“I’m glad I didn’t wait,” Killian says conversationally, though he’s sure that both Emma and Henry can feel him shaking.

“Me too,” Emma says quietly as they are lifted closer to the surface.

If it weren’t for her son squished halfway between them and the dire circumstances, he and Emma would be in quite an intimate position. His arms are wrapped around her and their faces are mere inches from one another. Her hot breath puffs over his face.

A moment later they break through the surface and a dozen hands are pulling them the rest of the way up and out of the elevator shaft. Killian stumbles when his feet hit solid ground and he has to fight the very real urge to kiss the grass beneath his feet, and the even stronger urge to kiss his savior.

Killian feels a little bit off kilter as he tries to stand out of the way while everyone celebrates saving Henry. Even though he’s been here for months now, and feels like he belongs here more than anywhere else, he still doesn’t really belong here. It’s only when Regina shoves Emma none too gently away from Henry and their gazes catch, that Killian thinks perhaps she feels the same way about this place. Emma walks away from the crowd and towards him. Killian moves to meet her.

“Thanks for saving me - again Swan,” he says.

“Don’t make a habit of getting into situations where you need saving and I wouldn’t have to,” she says playfully.

Killian feels a flush creep up his neck and scratches at his ear uncomfortably. His fingers feel sticky against his ear and he pulls his hand away, looking at his bloody palm in confusion. Emma reaches out and pulls his hand into her own, palm up. The tips of her fingers run along the edge of the cut carefully. She pulls a tissue out of her pocket and wipes some of the blood away, though around the edges has long dried.

“How’d you get blood on your hands?” she asks, once she’s wiped away as much as she can.

Killian shrugs, “I don’t remember,” he replies.

His hand is still cradled in hers and even though the cut stings, he’s loathe to move it. Emma’s thumb rubs slowly over the edge of his hand and it leaves a tingling trail in its wake. He looks up at her and their eyes lock together. Killian watches as Emma’s breath catches in her throat, and his mouth is dry with the need to speak, but he finds himself unable to.

“Mr. Jones,” Regina calls out and both Emma and Killian jump apart. “I’d like to have a word with you,” she continues as she walks over to them.

If it were any other woman, Killian would think he’s about to be thanked for keeping her son safe, but with Regina, he’s not so sure.

Killian shares a secret smile with Emma and bows at her before he walks towards Regina.

“Madam Mayor,” he says once they’re close.

“Not here,” she hisses.

She grabs his wrist and drags him to a more secluded spot hidden behind the truck so most of the townsfolk still milling about can’t see them. She drops his wrist as soon as they’re hidden and whirls towards him.

 “What the hell was that?”

Killian, while not exactly surprised by the tone, has no idea what she’s talking about. He raises a brow. “What was what?”

“You and Miss Swan back there, I thought I warned you against fraternizing in the workplace.”

Killian shifts his stance and pulls himself up to his full height. He towers over the mayor - even in her heels. “And I believe we’ve been over this as well, Emma is the sheriff and can choose a deputy as she sees fit.”

Regina’s eyes are blazing and her voice is dangerously low when she speaks. “You would be wise to listen to me deputy or perhaps you will meet an unfortunate end like our last sheriff.”

“Excuse me?” Killian asks, unable to believe that the mayor is actually implying what he thinks she is. 

“You heard me,” she says, pushing past him back towards the crowd. “Now if the only person you care about is yourself, I know you’ll make the wise choice.”

Her words echo around in his head as he walks back over to where Emma is chatting softly with Henry before the lad’s pulled away by his other mother and pushed into her car.

“What was that all about?” Emma asks once Killian is back near her.

He reaches behind his ear and scratches the spot there. “I’m not entirely certain,” he says, “Something about me only caring about myself.”

“That’s not true,” Emma says, and as soon as the words leave her, she blushes prettily as though shocked that the words came out of her own mouth. “I mean - you saved Henry back there, that sounds like caring about someone other than yourself to me.”

Killian smiles a little shyly. “Maybe I just needed reminding that I could.”

Emma is already at work with a steaming cup of coffee and a muffin on both of their desks when Killian arrives at the station three days after the mining incident, and the to go bag he’s carrying from Granny’s (a remnant of the lost bet turned habit) feels redundant.

“What’re you doing here so early Swan?” Killian asks, peeling off his jacket and pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot.

“Two reasons really,” she says, ticking off the reasons on her fingers and leaning back in her chair. “Well Mary Margaret was far too chipper this morning, apparently she and David are going out on a date this Friday night and I can’t exactly handle that level of perky that early in the morning.”

Killian smirks at her and takes a sip of his drink as he sits down in his chair across from her.

“And the other thing is one of my contacts got back to me about my search into your past - looking for your family.”

Killian’s head perks up at that and he raises a brow. “And?”

Emma frowns and shakes her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry Killian. I’ve been looking ever since we talked about it and it’s as if you just popped up in this world out of nowhere. I’ll keep looking though.”

Killian shakes his head and smiles at her. “It’s alright Swan, I always knew it was a long shot. Perhaps I’ll remember my past one day, but until then, I am rather enjoying the present.”

“Sounds like a good plan Jones,” Emma says with a smile, raising her coffee cup in a toast. Killian smiles back.

That Friday Killian has to sit through David nervously glancing at the clock every few minutes and, while he’s happy that the man is going to give it a go with the woman of his dreams, it’s really rather annoying. After Dave’s fifteenth glance at the clock in as many minutes Killian’s phone buzzes and he’s thankful for the distraction.

Is David being half as annoying as Mary Margaret is rn?

Oh I’m certain he is, he responds, how annoying is MM?

Well she’s tried on literally every outfit in her wardrobe

and half of mine too.

At this rate I’m going to murder her before they even go on the date.

The texts come in rapid succession and Killian finds himself smiling down at his phone.

Don’t worry Swan, I’ve got a plan.

“Hey Dave,” Killian says, and the man jumps a near mile having just been checking his reflection in the black TV screen. “Why don’t you head over to go pick Mary Margaret up now? Emma says she loves a man who is early.”

“Really?” David asks, face lighting up at the mere mention of the woman’s name.

“Aye,” Killian says, having no idea how Mary Margaret feels on the matter. But he isn’t too concerned because they’re both clearly mad for each other - anyone with eyes can see it.

“Okay, yeah okay,” David says, pulling on his jacket and nearly running out the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Killian calls after him with a laugh.

You’re welcome Swan

Dave’s on his way.

Oh my god thank you! Mary Margaret just started to sing about birds.

I’m not even kidding

Twenty minutes later Killian is reading a book he borrowed from Belle. He’s reading for pleasure and nothing to do with weird towns in Maine and their mysteries. A knock at the door interrupts him. He sets the book down and pads over.

“Swan?” he says.

A surprised smile blooms on his face as he opens the door.

She smiles a little uncertainly and holds up a case of beer. “I come bearing gifts.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, ushering her in and setting all but two beers in the fridge.

Emma shrugs, standing behind him as he pops the top off of one of the beers on the counter. It doesn’t escape his notice that it isn’t a twist off this time and the thought that she not only remembered, but made the effort to buy a different kind makes his heart swell. He hands her the beer and pops off his own cap before they both move to sit on the couch in the living room.

Emma takes a sip of her beer before speaking. “I don’t know, I just figured I’d come over since David and Mary Margaret are off making doe eyes at each other.”

Killian laughs and takes a sip of his own drink, cool liquid slipping smoothly down his throat. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

As the night wears on they end up deciding to watch a movie, which ends up being the Princess Bride since apparently Emma has never seen it. The stiff distance between them disappears somewhere around the ROUSes and the second beer. Killian doesn’t bemoan the change. The line of her left side is pressed up to his right and he is half certain that she can feel his heavy pulse in the place where their legs touch.

When the end credits roll Killian is certain Emma is going to leave, but she just wiggles back a little deeper into the couch - into him - and flicks on another movie. They’re halfway through the second movie when her head begins to loll every so often, catching on his shoulder before jerking awake. Until finally he just scooches down a bit and rests his arm behind her on the back of the couch, opening up the spot in the crook of his neck for her to rest her head. Neither of them say a word about it, but Killian can see the frantic beat of her pulse in the line of her neck and she’s certainly not half asleep anymore.

While the movie is good - or at least he thinks it is - Killian finds it can’t keep his attention. His eyes keep drifting over to Emma. Her hand slipped onto his thigh near his knee half an hour ago and other than the occasional little rubbing motion, it has remained there since. While her eyes are glued to the screen Killian thinks she’s watching the movie with just a little bit too much intensity for it to not be forced. He has to keep reminding himself to breathe.

“Is this okay,” she asks after a long minute, head tilted up towards his.

He looks down to meet her gaze and their position is so intimate that the breath is knocked from his lungs from the strength of his wanting. Gods he wants this - he wants lazy Sunday brunches at Granny’s and the quiet casual intimacy of a movie at home - he wants it to be real and at times like this it almost feels like it is - and it almost feels like maybe she wants it too.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice cracks and cuts out. He clears his throat and says it again, “Yeah, it’s good.”

She smiles at him and wiggles a bit so her head is cradled in a more comfortable position and Killian finds his arm wrapping loosely around his side; only releasing his held breath when she sighs and wriggles closer instead of pulling away. They spend the rest of the movie like that, and by the time the credits roll his arm’s half asleep and there’s a crick in his side. He’s never been more comfortable in his life.

When the screen goes dark Emma yawns, shifting to sit up. Killian silently bemoans the loss but stretches as well and there’s a satisfying crack as the vertebrae of his spine slip back into place. He glances at the clock; it’s nearing midnight now. Dave’s date must be going well if they’re still out and Killian smiles at the thought.

“I should probably get going,” Emma says grabbing a couple of their empties and heading over to deposit them next to the sink.

Killian stands as well and though he’s loathe for her to leave, his brain is tired and sluggish and he can’t come up with any reason for her to stay other than the fact that he is falling in love her. He wisely keeps his mouth shut on the matter as he follows her to the door.

“Thanks for coming over Swan,” he says, as she slips into her shoes, not bothering to tie the laces. “I had a nice time.”

Emma smiles at him as she puts her coat on and opens the door.

“Me too,” she says, lingering by the door.

He wants to kiss her.

“The date must be going well,” she says, and for one infinitesimal moment he thinks she is talking about them, before he realizes she means David and Mary Margaret.

Killian swallows back the hope that bubbled up in that moment and chokes it down just as quickly. He nods his agreement and Emma’s phone buzzes breaking the moment. She glances down at the screen then back up to Killian.

“Apparently Regina crashed their date,” she says with a huff, there’s more than a hint of animosity towards the woman in it and Killian can’t say he blames her. “They got rid of her though,” she says.

“I’m sure there’s a story there,” Killian says amicably as Emma opens the door.

Emma hums in agreement. “Night Killian, thanks for letting me barge in,” she says with a small smile.

“Anytime,” he says as she disappears into the night. 

It’s not even a half hour later when Dave returns home, humming to himself and looking for all the world like a fool in love.

“The date went well I take it?” Killian says with a smile.

David nods and takes the seat next to him as Killian’s phone pings. He glances down at the screen and it’s a message from Emma.

 Is David singing? Mary Margaret is singing.

Killian smiles down at his phone. His grin is just as wide as it always is when her name pops up in his phone, and it’s only when David says his name for the third time that he realizes the other man has been trying to get his attention. Perhaps David isn’t the only fool in love.

Less than three hours later Killian wakes to the thick putrid smell of smoke. He springs out of bed with such force that he nearly crashes into the opposite wall. The smoke detector in the kitchen is screeching out a panicked tune. He throws on a shirt, not even bothering with pants over his boxers and grabs his phone from beside the bed before stumbling out into the living room.

The kitchen and living room are engulfed in an inferno of light. His mind is groggy from sleep and struggling to catch up. He gasps when he wakes more fully and immediately chokes on it. The air is thick and heavy with heat, Killian blinks furiously as his eyes water, vision blurred. He stumbles to the door and the handle is blissfully cool as he reaches for it. When he yanks it open the additional air renews the fire and it blazes anew. 

Killian steps out into the night and gulps in the fresh air, pulling out his phone and dialing the number for the Storybrooke fire department. It’s only when he hangs up with them, mind and lungs free of smoke that he realizes David is still in the apartment. The man sleeps like the dead. With an almighty groan Killian drops his phone to the ground, pulls his shirt up above his nose and heads back into the inferno.

Even in the minute he was outside the fire has grown worse, flames licking the curtains and greedily spreading to anything exposed. The wall of heat is immediate upon his entrance and he has to take a roundabout path to David’s closed bedroom door. He whips the door open and tries to yell his name but coughs as soon as he opens his mouth.

He shakes David’s shoulder and the man is immediately alert. David jumps up and pulls his shirt over his mouth as well. They try to head back to the front door, but with an ominous creaking groan, one of the beams comes crashing to the ground in front of them sending a shower of hot sparks everywhere. The beam blocks their path to the door and Killian can’t stop coughing. The shirt pulled over his mouth is doing nothing against the smoke already in his lungs.

“This way,” David shouts, grabbing Killian’s hand and pulling him back into David’s room.

David slams the door behind them and shoves a blanket at the crack below. The room is far less smoky than the living area, but still Killian cannot control his cough. His lungs feel like they’re being scrubbed clean with steel wool and panic wells in his chest. David moves over to the window and pries it open. He steps back and kicks the screen once, twice, three times before it falls out of the sill.

“Come, on,” David says as he climbs through the window holding out a hand for Killian.

Killian follows him, stumbling as he pushes through the window opening. He gets all of three steps from the building before he begins hacking coughs that wrack through his entire body. He braces his hands on his knees and coughs.

The sound of sirens approaching is the most beautiful music Killian has ever heard as David yanks him a few feet further from the building. An ambulance arrives first and the paramedics are quick to pull both of them further from the apartment and check them. Killian’s already got an oxygen mask up to his face when the firetrucks arrive a moment later. David’s smoke inhalation isn’t quite as bad but they’ve got him on oxygen as well. Killian’s lungs start to feel like they’re working again when the police cruiser comes skidding to a stop outside of the apartment.

Emma leaps out of the vehicle, storming over to the two of them, blonde hair whipping behind her.

“Are they okay?” she asks the paramedics.

“We’re fine Swan,” Killian begins to say when she holds a hand up for silence, gaze steady on the paramedic before her.

“They’ve both suffered from some minor smoke inhalation. Killian is worse since he went back in, but they should be fine.”

The firefighters hook up to the hydrant and the sound of rushing water is jarringly loud as they battle the flames. Emma’s voice is tight as she thanks the paramedic. Killian drops the oxygen mask and stands up off the back of the ambulance walking towards her with his hands held up in supplication.

“Swan,” he says.

“You went back?!” she asks incredulously.

Killian reaches to twist his prosthetic and finds empty air. His eyes flick over to the now shrinking inferno before meeting Emma’s again. “Aye,” he says, stepping closer to her again, slowly. “But I had to -”

“Oh my god. You fucking idiot,” she says lunging forward and smacking him hard on the shoulder. He flinches from her rather painful hit. “You fucking idiot,” she murmurs again, grabbing the unbuttoned fabric of his shirt and yanking him to her.

Her lips crash into his and suddenly Emma is kissing him. Emma Swan is kissing him like she fucking means it. Killian’s eyes slam shut and he sways into her. His lips part beneath hers on a sigh, and then Killian Jones is no more.

Killian’s lips feel feverishly hot beneath hers as the kiss changes. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her impossibly closer. His leg slides in the space between hers until they’re flush against each other. Emma cants her hips forward against him, pulse thundering between her thighs. Killian sucks her top lip into his mouth just barely grazing it against his teeth. His arm slides down further. His hand is hot when it finally finds the slip of skin just above the waistband of her jeans.

She can barely keep up and when her fingers sink into his hair she finds herself tugging, hard. He gasps out against her mouth at the sensation, and she wants, god she wants to ravage him right here. Her hips give a little involuntary thrust up against his thigh, and sparks of pleasure shoot through her. It’s only the desperate need to catch her breath that has her pulling away.

“That was,” she begins to say.

“A onetime thing,” he finishes for her, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light now that the fire is extinguished.

The words feel like a physical blow. “Yeah,” she agrees. “That’s for the best.” She clears her throat and steps back out of his embrace, feeling suddenly cold.

His eyes meet hers for one infinitesimal moment before he nods and disappears into the night.

She’s too stunned to call out for him.

Later that night - or morning really - as Emma lies in bed, eyes tracing nonexistent patterns in the ceiling, she’s kept awake by the buzzing of her brain, wondering where Killian’s gone. The sun is just starting to peak out on the horizon as the first rays of light seep in through her curtain when she hears the soft pitter patter of feet on wood and knows that Mary Margaret has snuck out of bed to curl up against David on the couch and the thought leaves Emma remarkably cold. She pulls the quilt up higher so it rests just below her chin and closes her eyes, trying to fall back asleep even as the thrum of her heart and racing thoughts bouncing around her mind refuse to quiet. Emma groans and throws off the covers, plodding down the stairs.

She pointedly ignores the pair cuddled up together on the couch and heads into the bathroom. The pipes hiss in protest when Emma turns the knob, before spitting out a steady stream of scorching hot water. By the time Emma strips down and climbs in, the room is filled with steam.

Emma relaxes under the stream of water and before she can stop herself, her thoughts drift to Killian. She’s so angry with him. She’s mad at him for letting his apartment catch fire and for being an idiot and going back into a burning building. She’s pissed at him for kissing her like that. She’s mad at him for walking away. She’s scrubs at her skin with reckless abandon, mad at herself for caring. 

She goes into work ridiculously early. Throwing herself into her work is a necessary distraction, and it has the added bonus of avoiding spending the morning as Mary Margaret and David’s third wheel. The station is dimly lit by the early morning sunlight before Emma flicks on the florescent overhead lights. She starts a pot of coffee and is two cups in - almost completely done with all the backed up paperwork - before her thoughts drift to Killian again.

She can’t help but wonder where he spent the night last night. And while that is a burning question in her mind, she’s even more perplexed at the fact that Killian seemed so interested in pursuing her, so sincere then after one kiss - one hell of a kiss - he runs away. Emma shakes her head to clear the thoughts before downing the rest of her now cold coffee in one sip. She sits back in her chair and stretches her arms above her head.

Emma catches a glance at the clock on the wall a moment later and frowns. It’s nearly lunch time and Killian hasn’t come in for work, which is decidedly unlike him. Emma grumbles under her breath as she pulls out her phone. For one heartbeat she debates whether or not to call him after the way things ended between them last night, but she pushes down the thought and punches his number into her phone.

On the fourth ring it goes to voicemail and she would think he’d lost it in the fire if it hadn’t rung quite so many times first. Emma’s dials again and is sent to voicemail on the tail end of the first ring. The bastard sent her to voicemail.

“Hey Jones,” Emma says brusquely after the tinny automated voice tells her to leave a message, “In case you’ve forgotten you do have a job here - I get you just lost your place but come on at least let me know you aren’t coming in.”

Emma’s proud of herself for not cursing him out and immediately calls the loft next. Mary Margaret is at work but if she has any luck David will be there and willing to answer their phone. When the answering machine picks up Emma calls out for David. He answers after she’s said his name only twice.

“Hey Emma,” he says jovially, far more happy than she’d expect for someone who just lost his apartment. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Killian?” she asks, immediately wincing at her lack of greeting. “Because he just left last night and he didn’t show up for work this morning …” she trails off realizing that David must have seen them kiss yesterday and now she’s tracking him down and it’s exceedingly embarrassing and if he isn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere she’ll kill him herself.

“He didn’t come into work today?” David asks, concern lacing his voice. “No sorry I haven’t seen him. You could ask Granny, she seems to know everyone’s business,” he says, not unkindly.

Emma shakes her head, “I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere. Thanks, David.”

No way in hell she’s asking one of the biggest gossips in town where Killian is. Not only would it look bad that she can’t find her own deputy, but the old woman’s been trying to set Emma up with someone for years and she’s not about to give her more fuel to that fire.

As soon as Emma hangs up, her cell rings with Killian’s number flashing on the screen. She doesn’t even bother to tamp down her anger when she answers. “Killian, where the hell are you?” she says in lieu of a greeting.

“Sorry to disappoint, Ms. Swan,” Mr. Gold says and it has Emma reeling back in shock, “but Mr. Jones is tied up at the moment. You should come and collect him from my shop before that becomes the least of his worries.”

“What?” The phone goes dead and Emma stares at it in confusion for a second before getting up and swinging on her jacket. First she’s going to save him from whatever stupid fucking trouble he’s in, and then she’s going to kill him.

Killian’s head feels like it’s been bashed in. He groans, touching his fingertips to his forehead. When he pulls them away they’re sticky with blood. His mouth is dry and it takes him a long moment to figure out where he is. The dimness and musty smell would be enough of a giveaway even if Mr. Gold weren’t standing above him.

The night comes rushing back to Hook and he’s on his feet in a flash.

The fire, losing all his possessions then remembering, remembering everything. How he’d agreed to work together with Cora and became trapped in a bubble for 28 years that passed in the blink of an eye. Once the bubble popped and they were still trapped in the Enchanted forest, they knew that the Savior must have had her 28th birthday, but Cora couldn’t tell if the curse was broken.

Killian remembered how she’d used ashes from a magical wardrobe to create a portal, one that, if the curse had not yet been broken would erase all of their memories. He remembered standing by the edge of a waterless lake, and the look on Cora’s face as he pushed him in. Send for me once it’s broken, she’d called as he’d gone tumbling down into the portal, alone.

While the Queen of Hearts was quite the strategist, she’d made one major miscalculation. Hook got a ride to the land without magic, where the crocodile would be powerless. He had no need to send for Cora now, so why would he? 

After kissing Em- after he regained his memories, he’d immediately gone to the Rabbit Hole and proceeded to get well and truly sloshed. The rest of the night - or was it morning - was a bit of a blur. He’d been drinking himself into a stupor because he wanted to kill the crocodile, but he couldn’t do it until the curse was broken and the man knew what he was dying for - but then he remembered the animosity with which Gold first greeted him and he found himself marching over to the pawnbroker’s shop. Unfortunately he’d been so drunk that all it took was a well-timed thwack to the head with the butt of Rumpelstiltskin's cane and he’d gone down.

Now that he’s coming to, he lunges towards Mr. Gold again, this time the throbbing in his head caused from both pain and alcohol.  Rumpelstiltskin steps back out of his way as Hook staggers forward and he crashes into a glass display case as a result. Glass shatters everywhere and he can feel a sharp pain in his back from where a shard gets lodged.

“You bastard,” he says. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. He can’t be sure if it’s from the fall or his head injury, but he doesn’t care about anything other than killing the Crocodile. He spits blood and glares at Rumpelstiltskin. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right this instant.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re probably incapable of it at this point dearie?” he says with that fucking smile. Hook spent centuries thinking of ways to rip that smile off of his face.

He moves to put his hand on the display case to push himself up, and is shocked when his stump hits the raw edge of the broken glass display. He gasps and glances down at arm. He feels naked without his hook, or even his prosthetic. He shakes the thought before it can settle and lunges forward. He crashes into Gold and shoves the man back against the wall with his arm pressed solidly against his throat. The crocodile smiles at him, even as Killian increases the pressure against his trachea.

“I’ve been waiting so, so long to do this,” Hook says, unable to help himself.

He tilts his body weight forward a bit further and the involuntary gasp that escapes the Dark One’s throat is worth every damned sleepless night spent in Neverland.

Hook shifts so the Crocodile’s feet are no longer on the floor and his entire body weight is resting on Hook’s forearm tucked up beneath his chin. The sickeningly sweet smile falls from Gold’s face. The cane slips from his grasp and hits the floor of the shop with a satisfying thud. Hook smiles.  Rumpelstiltskin’s hands come up to claw at Hook’s arm, but he keeps the pressure on the other man’s throat tight. 

“Emma Swan,” Gold manages to choke out as his long nails dig half-moons into Hook’s arm.

“What?” Killian says as his hold on the crocodile loosens unconsciously. Gold gasps and gulps at the air. Killian shakes the man. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You asked for one reason why you shouldn’t kill me, and I gave you one. Miss Swan.” The smile is back and it’s as if Gold thinks he’s won.

“What does she have to do with anything?”

He won’t say her name. He won’t even think it because he’s so fucking confused and revenge has been the only thing on his mind for almost as long as he can remember and when he thinks about her it feels like betrayal.

Gold laughs, he has the audacity to laugh and Killian tilts forward, pressing his arm into the man’s neck harder and the sound chokes off. He pulls back slightly, just enough to let him speak.

“Don’t you see, pirate? She has everything to do with it. Don’t play dumb - everyone with eyes has seen the,” he pauses with a sneer, “yearning looks and doey eyes exchanged between sheriff and deputy. Do you want her to live in a cursed town for her entire pitiful existence? And what would Miss Swan think of your more,” he glances down at the arm at his throat pointedly, “homicidal tendencies?”

Killian feels his resolve wavering, but that’s what the bloody bastard wants and this isn’t about her, this is about Milah and what the pathetic excuse for a human being in front of him did to the woman he loved - loves, the woman he loves. The door to the shop flies open with such force it slams into the wall and sends reverberations through the shop. Killian doesn’t even turn his head to the noise, eyes firmly locked with the man before him.

“This isn’t about Emma you fucking bastard, this is about Milah and what you did to her!” Bloody spit leaves his mouth as he speaks and Gold visibly recoils.

“What the hell are you doing,” Emma’s voice comes from behind him and suddenly she’s yanking him away from Gold. His limbs fly wildly as he struggles to escape her grip. “I swear to god Jones, if you don’t stop flailing right now I’m going to hurt you,” she says, and the Crocodile is fucking smiling again and he’s going to murder the bastard he’s going to - “Killian!”

He’s still struggling against her, even as she backs them up to the door of the shop and kicks it open behind her.

“Oh and Miss Swan,” Gold calls from the other end of the shop, picking up his cane and swiping at the blood and spit on his face with the back of his hand. “I’d like to press charges.”

Killian growls and he lunges out of Emma’s grip towards the bastard, but she manages to grab a fistful of hair and pull him bodily from the shop. Once they’re outside Emma drops him and he very nearly crashes to the ground. He scrambles for the door and she jumps in his way, blocking the entrance.

“Out of my way Swan,” he says, voice low and dangerous - all traces of the gentle deputy gone now that the pirate’s been woken. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on.”

“Oh really?” Emma says, placing her hands on her hips and blocking the door completely. “Because I think that you got your memories back and realized that you and Gold have a history. That you blame him for losing the woman whose name is tattooed on your wrist - and I’m not about to let you throw your life away by doing something so fucking stupid.”

Killian feels his anger dissipating in the daylight outside of the pawn shop but he wants to hold onto it. He grasps it too tightly and it slips through his fingers in wisps.

“You don’t understand,” he says, and it sounds weak and frustrated to his own ears.

 He can tell that Emma knows she’s won this battle when she starts leading him, slightly forcefully, away from the pawn shop.

“You couldn’t understand what that man did to my Milah, what he did to me.”

Killian lifts up his stump, and finds himself shocked by the lack of hook yet again. He wonders momentarily if it’s still locked up in the station.

“Your hand?” Emma asks eyes wide when they meet his for the first time since she dragged him out of the shop. 

“Aye,” he nods, “the hand is the least of the damage he caused me.”

He walks slower, trying to decide if he can make a run for it back to the shop and murder the man before Emma can catch him.

Emma grabs his hand, as if sensing his murderous thoughts, though perhaps it’s the way his face is contorted in rage that tips her off. Her fingers wrap around his hand tightly and she yanks him along with her muttering all the way back to the station.

Even though they are not holding hands per say, since it’s more of her holding his in a vice like grip, it has a calming effect on him that he can’t seem to shake no matter how much he wants to. By the time they reach the station he feels a bit ashamed and more than a little embarrassed that she saw him act that way.

The moment they’re inside she drops his hand as though she’s been burned. It affects him more than he’d like to admit. She pushes him none too gently into one of the metal backed chairs before rooting around in her desk for something.

“You don’t have to cuff me love,” he says quietly. Gods he really messed things up, if she doesn’t feel safe without restraining him. But at the same time he should want to kill Gold, not make up with the sheriff, he has to remind himself of that.

“I’m not going to cuff you,” she spits, “idiot,” the last word is muttered under her breath, but it makes him feel better all the same.

She digs around in the desk for another moment before making a small aha noise and pulling out a small airplane sized bottle of whiskey and downs it in one go. “I can’t deal with this today,” she mumbles, before turning to him.

“Alright,” she says, psyching herself up. “Alright. Gold wants to press charges, but that ass got off when we arrested him for hiring Will to steal from himself, so I think we’ll let you off too.”

She paces the room in front of him. Killian watches her walk back and forth. “There was no one else in the shop, he’s got no witnesses and it’s basically your word against his so he’ll have to deal.”

Killian ducks his head sheepishly. “Thanks for doing this for me Swan,” he says.

She stops pacing and turns to face him abruptly. “I’m not doing it for your sake,” she says. “I’m doing it because I don’t think it’d bode well for the sheriff if her deputy was found attacking an innocent man for no reason.”

Hook leaps up from the chair, “He’s no innocent -”

Emma waves a dismissive hand, effectively cutting him off. “I know, I know. He’s a monster etcetera etcetera - I think it says something about the man that I’m not even remotely surprised it turns out he’s a sleaze ball, but that doesn’t mean you can murder him. It also doesn’t mean that the townspeople would see it the same way.”

He nods begrudgingly and sits back down in the chair.

“And don’t think that I won’t arrest your ass if you try shit like that again Killian.”

Hearing his name shocks him and he nods, unsure whether or not he truly means it.

“Don’t bother coming in to work again until you’ve got yourself together, okay?”

“Aye,” he says, standing again. “I’ll take my leave then.”

“Stay away from the pawn shop,” she says, turning her back to him to go back to her desk.

When he’s almost reached the door she calls out to him again, “And you better pull your shit together before Saturday, because I’m not explaining to my kid why one of his favorite people suddenly went insane.”

Killian makes a noise of acknowledgement and spends the entire walk to the harbor fighting the urge to go back to the pawn shop.

The harbor feels familiar, even in a foreign place and he almost cries out in relief when he spots the Jolly. He could just take her and sail away from this infernal place, but an intense pair of green eyes stare back at him in his mind’s eye and he finds himself shaking the thoughts of running - he’s never been one to run away.

After sneaking onboard the ship and swiping a handful of gold out of the stash hidden beneath the loose floorboard on the right side of his desk, he makes his way over to the harbormaster.  The ship is not too difficult to acquire, and after the gold changes hands it’s his.

The years stuck in Storybrooke’s port haven’t been kind to the Jolly and he spends all afternoon taking care of her. It takes his mind off the man less than a stone’s throw away. He throws himself into the work. The work is hard and the sun beating down on him is hot, but the sweat trickling its way down his back is familiar in the same way as the salt in the air. He welcomes the feeling. By the time he’s ready to turn in for the night, the ship is almost back to her former glory.

It isn’t until he’s falling drifting off, gentle waves rocking him to sleep, that he the impact of what Emma said hits him. He is one of Henry’s favorite people.

He may remember three hundred years of pain and revenge, but that night he falls asleep with a smile.

He spends much of the rest of the week aboard the ship, anchored a dozen miles or so from shore, unsure if he can trust himself to be any closer to the Crocodile and not go after him. But he knows he must return eventually. Friday afternoon he docks the ship, not wanting to be missing when Henry is supposed to go sailing with him tomorrow.

He walks through town towards Granny’s and the promise of a hot meal. He’s just about a block away when he someone calls his name. He turns around and David immediately punches him in the face. He reels back from the blow, clutching his nose.

“Bloody hell,” he says, pulling his hand away from his face to see blood dripping down his hand.

“That was for Emma,” David says, shaking his hand out by his side.

“What?” Killian asks distractedly, hoping his nose isn’t broken.

“I’ve been staying with Mary Margaret -

“Good on you mate,” Killian says with a lascivious look.

“And Emma,” David says, ignoring his comment, “since our place burnt down and I’ve seen her - she’s miserable and you’ve completely disappeared. I know it has to be your fault she’s like this, so what the hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Killian says defensively, hoping Dave’s wrong about Emma being so upset. David gives him a look that says he’s not buying it, and Killian continues. “Well,” he scratches behind his ear, “I remembered my past, all of it and I went after Gold because he killed my Milah.”

David pulls a napkin out of one of one of the holders in front of Granny’s and hands it to Killian. He nods his thanks and begins dabbing at the bloody path dripping towards his mouth. The metallic tang of it is thick in his mouth and he turns to spit. He realizes in that moment that the man before him is a prince in their land, and the thought makes him feel off kilter. He swallows the blood back.

“Wow,” David says after a moment, “I had no idea you were so blind.”

“What?” Killian says, stumbling a step back from the man.

“You can remember loving Milah, right? She’s the woman whose name is tattooed on your wrist?”

“Aye,” Killian says with a cautious nod, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Well, rather than disappearing for the better part of a week did you ever think to talk to the only other person in this town who knows exactly what you’re going through?”

Killian opens and closes his mouth for a moment, spluttering like a fish out of water. “What?” he finally croaks.

“You gave me some unwanted advice when I was at a crossroads and now I’m going to return the favor.” David puts a hand on Killian’s shoulder a bit too firm to be entirely placating. “Just because you used to love Milah and you remember loving her doesn’t mean you aren’t falling for someone else now,” David gives Killian a significant look and Killian stills in stunned silence. “And it doesn’t make the love you felt for Milah in the past any less real.

“Since you tried to murder someone - Emma told me,” he says at Killian’s surprised look, “the moment you remembered your past, I’d hazard a guess that you’re a different man now than the man that loved Milah. Maybe it’s time for you to move on.”

Killian doesn’t know how to respond to that. David pats him on the shoulder and says, “I know it takes a while to digest, I remember. But stop being such an idiot; I can’t take Emma being upset any longer.”

Without waiting for an answer he brushes past Killian and walks into the diner. Killian turns around and walks back to his ship to mull over the man’s words, no longer hungry.

Killian’s mind races all evening and that night when he’s trying to fall asleep his brain plays David’s words on a constant loop. His heart pounds just a little too fast, and even the steady rocking of his ship isn’t enough to calm him. When the first rays of sunlight begin to crest the horizon, seeping into his cabin through the window, he finally admits to himself that he’s falling for Emma - hell, who’s he kidding he’s already long since fallen desperately in love for her. As he falls into a fitful sleep, Killian resolves to win Emma’s heart.

Killian wakes a couple hours later, and runs his hands over his face, trying to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes. The call of gulls streaking through sunlight overhead and the salty brine of the breeze when he leaves his cabin wake him more than a cup of coffee ever could.

He shakes off the last vestiges of sleep as he climbs off the Jolly and onto the dock towards where Henry is waiting by the ship they’d always taken out before. Killian calls him over with a smile. Henry comes bounding over and nearly crashes into Killian with his momentum.

“Is this your boat?” he asks exuberantly.

“Ship lad, and aye it is,” Killian says, leading the boy onboard. “Where’s your mother?” he asks, as Henry runs ahead of him to explore the ship.

“Regina is at work and Emma said I could walk to the docks by myself,” he says, pulling himself to his full height. 

Killian is disappointed he didn’t get to see Emma. His stomach sinks at the thought that perhaps she’s avoiding him. He’ll seek her out after their sailing trip, he decides, as he unties the ship from the dock.

It’s the first time Henry has gone sailing with him since his memories returned, and Killian can’t help but think of another boy, eagerly absorbing everything there was to know about sailing a hundred years ago. Rumpelstiltskin tricked a queen into creating an entire realm to find that boy. Killian sighs, he never thought he’d be thankful for what happened to the boy, but at least if Emma does break the curse, the Dark One will never find him. Killian shakes himself from the melancholy thoughts and smiles at Henry.

“Want to give it a go?” he asks, gesturing towards the wheel.

Henry nods enthusiastically and takes the wheel from him. The sea breeze is something fierce today and Killian has to help the lad to keep them on a steady course once or twice, but Henry doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m just going to go down below deck for a moment lad,” Killian says, when the wind dies down a bit, “I want to show you my spyglass.”

Henry nods and tilts his head up to the sun, looking out over the deck. Killian climbs down the stairs and is halfway to his cabin when Henry’s voice has him turning.

“Hook?”

“Aye lad?” Killian says, walking back towards Henry.

Henry jumps up and knocks into the wheel in his glee, “I knew it! I knew it,” he says.

“The wheel my boy,” Killian says with a hint of panic in his voice as the ship starts to tilt. Henry grabs the wheel and Killian breathes easy again. “What did you know lad?”

“You’re Captain Hook!” Henry says, letting go of the wheel again for an instant before remembering himself and catching it.

“No I’m not,” Killian begins to say, but as soon as the words leave his mouth he can tell there’s no point. Henry isn’t going to be easily swayed, especially when Killian did just answer to Hook. He sighs. “Aye, I suppose there’s no point in hiding it any longer.”

“You remember!” Henry shouts excitedly. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew you remembered because you weren’t around at all this week - which is really weird cause you’re always around either at Granny’s or the sheriff’s station or for movie night with my mom and my mom’s been really annoyed this week even though every time I asked her she just said she was fine but she wasn’t fine - I can tell and I know it’s cause you were avoiding her and I know you wouldn’t be avoiding my mom unless you were having an essential crisis,” Henry says, all without taking a breath.

“Existential crisis, Henry,” he corrects, unsure if he even wants to think about the rest of Henry’s speech.

“Yeah that,” Henry says, looking up at Killian in absolute awe. “You have to help break the curse. Also,” Henry adds as an afterthought, “you should probably apologize to my mom cause she’s really mad - but don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Aye,” Killian says, feeling guilty for how he’s treated Emma these past couple days, “I owe your mother an apology.” Killian leans forward and adjusts the wheel two notches so that they’re headed back towards shore. He sighs, avoiding Henry’s gaze, “But I don’t know that I’m the best person to help break a curse.”

Henry lets go of the wheel entirely. Killian jolts forward to take it, knowing that Henry is a lost cause at the moment. Henry puts his hands on his hips and somehow manages to look down at Killian even though he’s at least a foot shorter.

“You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

Killian shifts under Henry’s gaze uncomfortably. “I’m Captain Hook lad,” he says gently, eyes on port rather than the boy. “You remember who’s the villain of that story, don’t you?”

Henry shakes his head and steps closer to Hook, “Your story isn’t in the book but I know you’re the hero. Disney got a lot wrong in my grandparents story too.”

“I’m afraid that other than Pan being a bloody demon, the movie was right to portray me as the villain.”

“I don’t believe that,” Henry says, looking up at Killian earnestly. “Would a villain work in the sheriff’s department to help my mom catch the bad guys? Would he take the mayors’ kid sailing all the time without asking for anything in return?” Killian opens his mouth to interrupt, but Henry plows on, “You have to come into town and help me break the curse. You have to.”

Killian shakes his head, “I don’t know lad, it’s difficult for me to be on shore right now.” He flicks his gaze over the boy and sighs, “Mr. Gold took someone very important from me, and I’m not sure that me being in town would be for the best at the moment since I am trying very hard not to kill him.”

“But don’t you see? A villain wouldn’t separate himself from his enemy if he wanted to kill him,” Henry says, jumping up excitedly and grabbing onto Killian’s arm. “Plus,” he says seriously, “you probably shouldn’t kill Mr. Gold because then my mom would be even madder at you.”

Killian sighs and chooses to ignore the boy’s idea for now, instead focusing on docking the ship at port. Even though a mere two weeks ago Henry was practically docking the boat by himself, this time Killian has to call out instructions to the lad more than once. He’s thankful when they finally tie the ship to the dock.

“I’m just saying,” Henry says as he steps back out onto the docks. “That you don’t seem like a villain to me.” He shrugs as though that isn’t a life altering revelation.

“If you help me break the curse,” Henry says sagely, “it’ll help everyone in this place. It’ll help my mom finally find her family. You have to help me Killian; you are the only one who can.”

Henry is staring at him imploringly and Killian finds himself nodding. “Aye lad, I’ll help you.”

“Help him with what?” Emma asks, approaching the pair.

Her eyes flick to Henry for a moment before landing on Killian. She folds her arms across her chest as she waits for him to answer.

Killian hazards a glance at Henry before he answers. “It’s a surprise, love.”

Her eyes narrow at him and he smiles a bit uncomfortably in response. “Henry,” Killian says, breaking their intense staring match. “Could you go give this docking fee to the harbor master at the booth over there,” he says, pressing a coin into the boy’s palm.

Henry nods and happily walks over the old man. Killian turns to face Emma. “It’s nothing unscrupulous love, the lad just wants some assistance and my skillset seems best suited to it.”

“Nothing dangerous?” she asks.

Killian shakes his head - so long as Cora stays trapped in the Enchanted Forest, Gold plays the innocent pawn broker, and Regina remains under the impression that the town is still firmly within her grasp - then he’s the only villain anyone need worry about.

“And you’re done freaking out about your memories returning I hope?”

“Aye.”

“Good,” she says with a nod.

As she turns to leave he catches her wrist and steps closer to her, swaying into her space. “I was foolish to think that revenge would bring me my happy ending. I will win your heart Emma,” he says. Her eyes are wide and her mouth pops open slightly in surprise, “and it won’t be because of any trickery, it will be because you want me.”

With that he lets go of her wrist and steps back, uncharacteristically vulnerable with his heart out in the open for her to see.  Emma ducks her eyes and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, biting her lip against the small smile trying to break free. And, Killian thinks, he doesn’t feel quite so much like a villain anymore.

The next day he arrives to work early, cup of coffee and a half dozen bear claws balanced on his arm as he unlocks the station and heads inside. He knows a bear claw can’t repair the damage he did while he mucked everything up this past week, but gods he wants to make things right between them again. He starts sorting through the paperwork that’s begun to pile up. With one person doing the job of two there’s a lot of catching up to do. It’s only a half hour later when Emma arrives.

She does a double take when she enters and Killian is a bit ashamed at that. “Morning Swan,” he calls a little too casually to be normal as she takes her jacket off and hangs it on the rack. “There are some bear claws for you on top of the filing cabinet over there. They might still be warm,” he says, tilting his head towards the box housing the desserts Emma swears are breakfast.

“Thanks,” she says, eyeing him warily as she walks over to the box of Danishes and plucks two from within.

She tosses him one as she settles in her seat, and it feels like a peace offering. He can’t help the small smile from blooming on his face.

As the day wears on, he can tell she’s still a little wary, eyeing him a couple of times as though he may go mad and start trying to kill the Crocodile again at any moment. But as hard as it is to do, he’s set aside his revenge - he’s no longer willing to sacrifice his entire future for his past. Now all he’s got to do is convince Emma that he’s still the man he was when they met - or maybe not exactly him - but that at the heart of it, he is a good man. He’s so completely screwed.

Work seems to pass by without incident and by the end of the shift Emma seems far more affable than she did at the start. Still, when she leaves to go collect Henry and surely venture to Granny’s for dinner, he can’t help but feel a little disappointed at the knowledge that a mere two weeks ago the invitation would have extended to include him.

He shows no signs of going crazy again for the following few days and Emma’s smiles come a little easier. By the end of the week he’s invited to join her and Mary Margaret for lunch at Granny’s and he considers it no small victory.

Over the following week things seem to go back to normal for the most part; except for the knowledge he now has of a whole other life - hundreds of years’ worth of memories assaulting him for attention - but other than that nothing’s changed.

Tuesday afternoon Killian begs off of work early, promising to come in early the next day so that he can meet up with Henry after school for their super-secret meeting.

They’re supposed to meet up at the school then head over to Killian’s ship. The plan is to plot how to make Emma believe and somehow break the curse once she believes - they haven’t really thought it out that far ahead yet - but Henry is hungry and they end up at the super-secret back corner booth at Granny’s instead.

Once a plate of fries and two hot chocolates have been ordered, Henry leans forward in his seat, casting a glance over Killian’s shoulder to the back hallway before speaking.

“So have you thought more about how we’re going to get my mom to believe?”

Killian nods, “I have lad, it’s not going to be simple though,” he says, thinking back only a few weeks ago before the fire - which they’d discovered was set and Killian doesn’t need three guesses to figure out by whom - back when he didn’t believe either. “Until I remembered I thought you were merely making those stories of yours up. I apologize for not believing you sooner.”

“It’s okay, you weren’t ready yet.” Henry shrugs and pops a fry into his mouth. His eyes go wide and he sits up straight in his seat, “That’s it! We’ll just get Emma to do whatever you did to remember.”

Killian’s eyes drop to his drink and he can feel heat flush to his cheeks. He wishes for something just a little bit stronger.

“I don’t think that’ll work lad - there’s no curse keeping her from forgetting, there’s nothing of her life in the Enchanted Forest to remember.”

Plus, he amends silently, if it was her kiss that awoke the memories lying dormant within him, he’s fairly certain that his kiss would not have the same power over her. 

Henry groans in frustration and shoves another handful of French fries into his mouth. “Maybe she’d believe you if you tell her that you remem-” Henry cuts off abruptly and starts choking on his mouthful.

“Alright there lad?” Killian asks, reaching across the table to pat him on the back.

Henry nods, swallowing and takes a gulp of his hot chocolate. “Hi Mom,” he says.

Killian twists in the booth as Henry speaks and is shocked when it isn’t Emma standing behind him. 

“I think it’s time to go Henry,” she says darkly, leaving no room for argument.

The woman standing before them is no small town mayor. Her eyes are narrowed and hard, mouth twisted in a grin that’s only half as pleasant as it is macabre, and her hands are balled into fists at her sides, fingers twitching slightly. Killian wonders if they itch to create a fireball as much as his stump stings with no hook on its end. Killian knows in that moment that she heard every word.

Henry thanks Killian for the food and quickly follows his mother out of the diner. Hook’s only reassurance that the boy is safe, is in the knowledge that the queen would never harm her boy - him on the other hand he’s not so sure. 

For the following three days Killian is on edge, jumping at each creaking floorboard of the Jolly, twitching every time the door to the station opens, and once he even let out a little yelp when the phone at the station rang, he was thankfully alone for that one.

When he’s watching a movie with Emma at her place, Mary Margaret and David nowhere to be seen, the knock at the door nearly makes him fall off the couch. He never thought himself a coward, but at this point he’s not so sure anymore. It’s almost the anticipation of the Queen doing something that’s worse than anything else, he’d almost wish the woman would get whatever she’s planning over with.

Emma’s hand lifts up off his thigh as she shifts the blanket off of their laps; Killian hadn’t even noticed her hand until it’s gone. He pauses the movie as she pads over to the door. Regina is standing there, looking far too kind to be sincere and Killian leaps up from the chair to go join Emma at the door.

“Hi Ms. Swan,” she says, falsely cheerful, “Oh Killian, good you’re here I was hoping you would be.”

Emma greets the woman cautiously while Killian remains stony faced beside her, wondering if perhaps she tried his ship first.

“I feel horrible for how much the three of us have been butting heads lately - it’s not good for Henry to be around so much fighting.” Emma stands stock still, eyes locked on Regina as the woman speaks. “So here,” Regina says, pressing a Tupperware dish into Emma’s hand, “my famous apple turnover, as a peace offering of sorts.”

Killian’s brow raises involuntarily at the word apple and he knows, from the quick glance Regina shoots him that she noticed.

“I only had enough to make the one,” Regina says, eyes boring into Killian, “but I’m sure between the two of you that someone will finish it off. Or, I could always give you another kind of peace offering.”

The words are a threat, there’s no doubt in Killian’s mind about that, but Emma, perhaps obliviously, accepts the Tupperware anyway. Regina smiles as she leaves. Her eyes don’t leave Killian’s until the door closes between them.

“That was weird,” Emma says, popping open the container.

“Don’t eat that Swan,” Killian says.

There’s no magic here, Killian knows, but either way he’s not willing to play Regina’s game.

“Why not?” Emma asks, holding the pastry up to her nose and inhaling deeply. “What do you think, that she’d poison me? Regina may be crazy but she’s not a psycho.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her love,” Killian says, eyeing the confection.

She rolls her eyes and steps away from the door. “I’ll prove to you that it’s not poisoned.” She smirks at him, holding the turnover up to her mouth. She’s about to take a bite when Killian rips it out of her grasp.

“What the hell Killian?” She lunges for it and he yanks it out of her reach.

Emma grabs his arm and tries to jump up for it. Killian knows that the stubborn woman isn’t going to stop until she wins. In the moment he can think of only one way to stop her. He screws his eyes closed tight and shoves a mouthful past his lips.

“I see how it is,” Emma says, “you just wanted the whole thing to yourself. Well sucks for you buddy but your spit doesn’t deter me.”

Killian lets out one barking laugh, with the mouthwatering taste of Regina’s apple turnover still lingering in his mouth. It doesn’t kick in right away and the horrible thing is, for one brief blissful moment, Killian thinks that perhaps he was wrong and it is a peace offering after all.

Then there’s nothing.

Killian is unconscious by the time he hits the floor. By the time the ambulance arrives at the hospital he’s fighting for his life. Emma’s heart constricts painfully, and she has to breathe deep and slow to ward off a panic attack. She feels useless, pacing just outside the door to his room, peering in through the glass as the doctors rush around him.

If only she hadn’t goaded him into eating that pastry, she thinks, before the realization that the pastry was indeed poisoned hits her. She’s going to fucking murder Regina. There’s a commotion behind her but Emma can’t bring herself to turn away from Killian, until a moment later there’s a small weight slamming into her from behind.

She whips around and Henry’s there, arms wrapped around her, face and head buried into her stomach.

“Is Killian going to be okay?” Henry mumbles into her stomach.

“I hope so,” Emma says, unable to bring herself to instill the kid with a false sense of hope. 

Emma straightens from her hug with Henry, and her eyes lock onto Regina’s. The woman is barely able to bite back a smile and Emma is going to fucking murder her.

“Stay here,” Emma says to Henry before lunging forward to Regina and grabbing her arm. She half drags the woman back out of the corridor and towards an empty supply closet; Henry’s eyes on them are the only thing keeping her from strangling the woman right the

Before Regina can even begin to speak, Emma slams into her, knocking the mayor into a rack of supplies, sending both crashing to the ground. Regina stands again and Emma punches her in the face, hand meeting flesh with a satisfying crack.

Regina smiles as she wipes her nose and mouth of blood. “So the swan grew some teeth.”

“What the hell did you put in that pastry?” Emma says, lunging forward to hit Regina again, but the woman ducks out of her way.

Regina grins wickedly as she pushes Emma up against one of the racks with an arm tight across her throat. “My only regret is that I didn’t have enough for both of you. No matter though, one is enough.”

Emma screams and shoves Regina off of her. “Fix it,” she spits. She reaches a hand to her side for a gun that isn’t there and yells in frustration, swinging at Regina with her fist instead.

Regina ducks out of the way of Emma’s blow and laughs. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because unless you bring him back you’ll never see Henry again.”

Regina’s smug smirk sets Emma’s teeth on edge. “Or I can just tell the town that you tried to off your boyfriend,” she spits the word as though it tastes sour on her tongue, “when you found out he was cheating on you. Who do you think they’ll believe, the mayor, or the orphan runaway who’s already been to jail once? Didn’t your first love die mysteriously as well?”

Emma lunges forward and her hands are at the other woman’s throat. Now she knows what Killian was feeling when he was on the verge of strangling Mr. Gold to death.

“I’m not some 18 year old kid anymore Regina. You can’t push your weight around to get what you want. I swear to god that if Killian dies I will take Henry with me right over that town line and you’ll never see us again.”

For the first time since their scuffle began, Emma sees the tiniest trace of fear flicker across her face. “There’s no cure,” Regina bites out, arms coming up to claw at Emma’s grip on her neck when her fingers tighten.

“Regina you better not be fucking lying to me - “

Regina chokes, gasping for air when Emma lightens her grip on the other woman’s neck just enough to let her speak. Regina thrashes in her grip trying desperately to break free before speaking. “He’s under a sleeping curse, only magic - True Love’s Kiss can save him - and there’s no magic in this world.”

“What?!” Emma’s hands drop from Regina’s throat. “You mean Henry was right, it’s true?”

“Yes,” Regina huffs in exasperation, “Ms. Swan, it’s true.”  She reaches up to rub at her neck, and walks towards the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’d be best if I take Henry home.”

“Just wait a minute -” Emma says, trying to wrap her head around everything as Regina opens the door.

Fairytales are real. Emma is in a town full of fairytale characters, and she is one of them. Her son’s adopted mother is the Evil Queen, who poisoned Killian to - why why would Regina want to poison him when she could’ve just as easily waited to give it to Emma while she was alone.

“Why the fuck did you poison him?” Emma shouts, trailing after Regina as the woman heads to the ward that houses Killian, where Henry is still waiting.

Regina ignores her and when it doesn’t seem like she’s going to answer Emma grabs her by the shoulder and spins her around to face her. “Why did you poison Killian?” Emma spits, low and dangerous.

“You poisoned him?!”

They both whip around at the sound of Henry’s voice.

“Henry,” Regina says, voice carefully placating as she reaches a hand out towards him.

He jumps back away from her touch and looks between the two of them disbelievingly.

“Why would you poison Killian?” Henry asks.

He looks like he’s halfway between crying and screaming. Emma’s heart thumps out of rhythm, frantic against her ribcage. She wants to hold onto her anger, let it fester and grow within her, if only so she doesn’t feel the gnawing panic and heartbreak that’s setting roots deep within her chest.

“I didn’t -” Regina begins before changing course when Henry folds his arms across his chest and looks at her in horror. “It was the only way to protect everyone, to protect what we have. You’re happy here, aren’t you Henry? Mr. Gold wanted to break the curse that protects us. I had to stop him, but I couldn’t do it directly because of an old promise and Hook was the only one not under the curse, the only one who could possibly help the savior break it. I could’ve killed him but I didn’t, Henry. I put him to sleep because with him remembering everyone was in danger.” Regina’s voice turns pleading, but Henry isn’t so easily swayed.

“Danger from you,” he says.

Emma rushes past the arguing pair, knowing that Regina may be many things, Evil Queen included, but Henry’s in no danger from her. There are several nurses and doctors surrounding Killian’s bedside as she approaches. When she’s close enough to hear the flat line she starts sprinting.

“No, no no,” she chants as she skids around the glass wall and into the room.

Doctor Whale shakes his head as she enters. “I’m sorry sheriff,” he says, placing an awkward hand on her shoulder as he and the nurses file out of the room. “We’ll give you some privacy to say goodbye.”

She stumbles into the room, so focused on Killian that she crashes right into a cart full of medical instruments. Supplies skitter across the floor. Emma grabs the overturned cart by the legs and flings it across the room in retaliation. The noise of it hitting the glass wall is so loud it’s surprising it doesn’t shatter on impact.

“You fucking asshole,” Emma says as she approaches Killian’s prone form on the bed. “Why did you have to eat that stupid fucking pastry?”

Her breath is coming too quick and Emma feels tears pricking at her eyes. She blinks furiously, in a vain attempt to bite them back. She reaches out to brush her hand across his cheek. In that instant, as her fingers brush his skin, she can’t hold back a sob. He’s warm, as if he is asleep rather than dead and the hope that flares up deep within her chest is a cruel thing.

Though perhaps not as cruel as the fact that they’ll never get a chance to explore what’s between them. And suddenly Emma sees that life before her, one full of love and laughter and family and him. And god she wants it.

“I’m so sorry Killian,” she whispers, bending down to place one final brief kiss against his lips.

Killian inhales sharply. Emma is standing before him, tear tracks on her cheeks and disbelief plain in the lines of her face. Killian smiles.

“You saved me,” he says. “Again.”

“God Killian, can you please not need saving again anytime soon?” Emma says. She swipes the back of her hand across her cheek with her eyes on the floor.

“I can’t make any promises love,” Killian says with a smile.

“You - I mean - could you just - ugh,” Emma says, stumbling over her words. “I hate you.”

Killian feels almost giddy. “Your kiss says otherwise.”

“Shut up,” Emma says, trying and failing to bite back a smile.

Killian’s smile grows impossibly wider.

“Alright Captain,” Emma says holding out a hand, “Want to get out of here?”

“Captain?” Killian asks, wondering if he misheard her. “You - do you believe Henry?”

Emma nods with a shy smile. He takes her hand. They’ve only walked out into the hall when Henry comes running around the corner.

“You did it! You did it!” He doesn’t skid to a stop soon enough and crashes into Killian, arms coming up around his waist to crush him in a hug. “I knew you could break the curse mom,” Henry says, still wrapped around Killian’s waist. “Everyone’s remembering.”

It’s then that Killian notices the normally busy hospital halls are full of nurses, doctors and patients looking at themselves and each other in awe.

“You mean we broke the curse for the entire town?” Killian asks.

Killian knows Emma, he knows her well enough to know that she’s panicking at the thought that her kiss - their kiss- was powerful enough to wake up the whole town. Even growing up in this world, she must know that True Love’s Kiss is the only thing powerful enough. Killian feels a little flutter of nerves deep in his gut because the thing about wanting something so much for so long is that when he finally has it, it’s absolutely amazing and completely terrifying at the same time. Killian squeezes her hand and his fluttering nerves find an anchor when she squeezes back. 

“What do you say we go find your parents Swan?”

The three of them leave the hospital in a rush. They’re passing the clock tower on the way to Mary Margaret’s apartment when Emma halts. Killian turns to her in anticipation.

“Maybe, do you think - I don’t know if finding Mary Margaret and David is such a good idea -”

“Mom there they are!” Henry calls from ahead of them.

Mary Margaret and David start running when they spot them and Killian feels a little out of place, like he’s nothing more than a villain crashing the heroes’ reunion. He starts to shuffle backwards and out of the way when Emma grips his hand tight.

“Don’t you dare leave now,” she whispers through clenched teeth.

David and Mary Margaret stop just before crashing into them. Mary Margaret - Snow reaches out a hesitant hand to cup Emma’s cheek. Then she and David are engulfing both her and Henry in a tight hug. When they finally pull away, Emma’s hand finds his again and both her parents’ eyes immediately hone in on it.

“So you’re Captain Hook then?” Mary Margaret says more than asks, eyes straying from their hands up to his face.

“Aye,” he nods and he would scratch behind his ear if his hand wasn’t already occupied.

“And you’re dating my daughter?” Prince Charming’s voice is startlingly different from his former roommate David’s.

“David!” Emma says, cheeks pink. “You’ve been my parents for five minutes, don’t you think it’s a little soon for the interrogation?”

“Maybe she’s right David,” Snow says, placing a placating hand on David’s shoulder. “They did just wake the town so they must be Tru-”

“And I think that’s our cue to go see if everything’s okay at the sheriff’s station with people,” Emma clears her throat, “err waking up and everything… old feuds and all that.”

Mary Margaret smiles knowingly and Henry cracks a grin.

“Alright,” David says, “I suppose there’s plenty of time ahead of us for me to be an overbearing father.” The man grins at the thought.

Killian turns to Emma with a nervous smile when they enter the station a moment later. “I think if David is going to interrogate me as though we’re courting, perhaps I should finally take you out on a date?”

Before she opens her mouth to respond, Killian finds himself surging forward, “I can convince you,” he whispers, crashing into her lips.

Her hands dive into his hair, tugging none too gently and Killian moans against her mouth, arms wrapping around her to pull her impossibly closer. His hand slips beneath her shirt, fingers tight against the bare skin of her back.

Her tongue pushes against his lips and he opens to her. Teeth scrape his bottom lip and his moan is swallowed up in her gasp when his fingers dip below her waistband. Emma’s hips rock into his and he pushes her back to press her up against the wall. She whimpers against him when he breaks his lips away from hers and begins kissing a line down her neck.

He bites gently at her pulse point, and then swipes his tongue over it. She groans and her hands move to his cheeks, pulling his face back to hers and crashing their lips together again. Her hands move from his face down his back to cup his ass. He moans into the kiss.

Later, when they finally pull apart he feels a surge of pride at the fact that Emma’s breath is coming in quick short bursts and there’s a bright flush smattering her cheeks.

“So what do you say Emma,” he says, “are you willing to give us a shot?”

“I don’t know,” Emma says swaying towards him. She grabs his belt loop and yanks him closer. “I think I could use a bit more convincing.”

This time when their lips meet it is soft and sweet and he can’t be sure, but Killian thinks that he just might be able to taste her smile.

In that moment he knows that he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life convincing her, but the swipe of her tongue against his bottom lip and the thrust of her hips makes him think that maybe it won’t take quite so long.