Summary: After a day on patrol, Killian comes home to their 5-year-old daughter trying on a certain item of Emma's.

As he walked up the steps to their house, Killian pondered whether he would ever not feel a small jolt to his heart each time he stepped through the door.

No matter how exhausting a day it had been at the station—whether fighting some monster from another realm or dealing with the daily mischief of a dwarf—a breath of relief escaped him as the door closed, shutting out Storybrooke and the comfort of home washing over him.

The past few years had been relatively quiet in comparison to what their life used to be, but Killian liked to think they had found their own way, their own routine uniquely theirs that kept them grounded enough to create the future they had fought so hard for.

That is not to say they didn't still have chaos in their life. The difference was, it was their chaos.

And her name was Clara.

She had Emma's blonde locks, but his blues eyes, her stubbornness, and his snark. It didn't quite matter what she looked like he would still think her the most beautiful treasure in all the realms.

"Emma?" He called out into the quiet house, his gaze quickly searching the first floor for any sight of her. His lips quirked up at the video box on in the living room. No matter how many times he told Emma to turn it off when she wasn't in the room, he more often than not returned home to the soft commentary of the Food Network, Emma's secret obsession.

(She wasn't to know he was quickly getting hooked on it, too).

Truthfully, on days he worked later than his Swan, he enjoyed walking in to the voices on the television (some of this realm's vocabulary still foreign to him). Sometimes the volume was loud enough so Emma could hear it from the kitchen as she cleaned or made dinner, little Clara occupying herself with her toys scattered across the living room. It was an image that represented what Killian never thought he'd have: a home, a family, a happy beginning.

After hearing a faint reply from upstairs, Killian took the steps two at a time, his body anxious to see his loves.

Noting the lack of light in their daughter's room that sat just across from the stairs, he went straight to the master at the end of the hall. The door was ajar and he slipped through, assuming Emma was in the washroom when he discovered the room empty.

Or so he thought.

A soft thump coming from the right side of the bed caught his attention and his eyebrow rose as he noticed a little blonde head. He tiptoed over to the opposite side and hunched down to rest on his knees as he stared across the comforter.

There was rustling before he saw the top of her head appear just above the edge of the bed, her forehead scrunched in concentration. She had yet to notice him and he took the opportunity to gaze at his little lass. As she stood up to her full height he saw a flash of red and his lips parted, but really it was when her small hands came up to move her golden curls out from under the collar in the way Emma always did that caused him to break into a smile.

"Clara," he sang in a low whisper, making his presence known.

Two eyes peeked over the edge of the bed that was just taller than her, her blue orbs wide like she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He placed his left elbow on the bed, resting his chin on his hook as he stared at her teasingly. She giggled before suddenly disappearing from view. Keeping himself low, he walked around the end of the bed and chuckled when he found her peeking around the corner.

He bent down on one knee in front of her. "What're you up to, little love?" he asked, tilting his head.

She stood up, revealing the red jacket he had seen many, many times before. The sleeves fell way past her tiny hands and the bottom sat just above her knees, but all Killian saw was a young Emma and the sight trapped his breath in his throat.

Clara lifted her chin as she stated proudly, "I'm mummy!"

He broke out into a smile, tears pricking his eyes as he laughed. "Yes, my love," he said, raising his hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "More than you know," he added softly.

Every single day he saw signs of his wife in Clara. If one looked past her apple-round cheeks and dimples, one would see his little lass had just as much fire as her mum. Though they may be small at only five years of age, she never shied away from a challenge, meeting every single one with determination and resilience. He had nearly bursted into tears when she had walked into his arms for the first time at only nine months, his pride in her so strong he hadn't been able to do anything but hold onto her for a moment.

In the same way he still couldn't believe Emma had chosen him, he didn't think he would ever fathom how he was blessed with such a soul to call his.

"You just need one last touch, love." Clara watched curiously as he removed the deputy badge from his chest and carefully pinned it to Clara's shirt. "There," he said, tugging the edges of the jacket to straighten it, tilting his head to make it look like he was appraising her.

"Looks like a new Sheriff is in town," came a familiar voice behind him.

Clara giggled, though obviously unfamiliar with the reference. He stood up, guiding her to stand in front of him as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "I think someone's trying to take your job, Swan."

"Daddy says I look just like you," Clara chimed in happily.

Killian watched as Emma bent down in front of Clara, understanding the emotion swimming behind her eyes as she looked at their daughter. Emma softly ran her knuckle along Clara's cheek. "He's right," she said. "And I'm going to tell you something." Emma rolled up the sleeves of the jacket to free Clara's hands as she spoke. "This jacket is special. It protected me for a very long time; it kept me strong, kept me fighting when I was scared and didn't want to." When she paused, Killian placed his hand on top of hers that rested on Clara's shoulder. Emma smiled up at him just as Clara interrupted.

"Does it have magic?" She exclaimed. "Like me?"

Emma grinned, obviously liking the idea of that as she nodded. "Yes, baby, it does," she told her as she lifted her hand with her palm facing Clara.

Clara was two when she displayed her first act of magic. As an infant, the signs were subtler like the minor light flickers whenever she was particularly cranky. They had thought nothing of it until the day she'd summoned her favorite stuffed toy (a tiny duckling she'd gotten when she was born) all the way from her room to her tiny hands downstairs.

It had both excited them and terrified them, but they agreed to raise her so she embraced her powers. "I want her to love who she is. If we want to give her strength, we have to give her that," Emma had said, to which Killian had wholeheartedly agreed. It was then decided Emma would show her healthy ways to tap into her magic, small steps that taught her how to use it while also giving the energy a way to vent, with plans to work with Regina when she grew older.

He broke out of his thoughts to watch what had become a ritual of sorts, a bond between mother and daughter that never ceased to make his heart swell.

Clara met her mother's hand with hers and just as their skin touched he felt power humming between the two of them as a small white light appeared between their palms. It grew bright for a few seconds before they let it fade as they removed their hands.

"Love you, mummy," Clara whispered, throwing her arms around Emma's middle.

"I love you, too, my sweet girl," Emma replied, closing her eyes as she kissed Clara's hair. After pulling back, Emma helped Clara out of the jacket and sent her off to get ready for dinner.

Killian had removed his vest and walked over to the closet when he felt a presence behind him. Wordlessly, he brought an arm around Emma's shoulders as she moved into his side.

"Alright, love?" he asked, rubbing his hand along her back.

She smiled up at him. "Yeah," she answered, her eyes trained on the jacket in her hands. He tilted his head, knowing she had more to say. "I wish I could protect her forever," she sighed a moment later.

He nodded. "I know, love. Me too." He shifted to take the jacket from her, slipping it onto a hanger next to her others before gripping her hand in his own. "All we can do is be there for her. She has a whole band of heroes on her side."

Emma nodded in agreement, lacing her fingers between his. "She does."

He brought their joined hands up to brush her cheek with his knuckles as he gazed at his wife—his beautiful wife, he mused. "She'll never know a life without love," he stated softly as if he himself just realized that fact. Emma's eyes began to shine at his words and he hugged her to his chest. The fact they could give a child—their child—what they grew up without brought the moment into focus, their respective lifetimes of pain and loss and fighting to survive reaching a point of closure for both of them. "And I know she'll be just as strong as her mother," he added, kissing the top of her head.

He could feel Emma roll her eyes but her head tucked into him shyly. "She's got plenty of you in her, too," she said, reaching into her back pocket to pull out his badge as she gazed up at him with amusement in her eyes. "Mr. Deputy Jones."

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a playful smirk. "I'll let you in on a secret," he whispered against her temple.

"Hmm?" she teased back, giggling when he nuzzled his nose against her skin.

"I only secured the job because I'm sleeping with the Sheriff."

Emma let out a laugh and he smiled at the sound. She moved her hands from around his waist, one arm slinking around his neck, her other sliding up his chest to lay her hand on his heart. "Lucky woman," she smiled.

She looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes bright with happiness and her love for him, and all he could do was shake his head. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Quite the opposite, Swan," he mumbled against them. "Quite the opposite."