Written for a Tumblr prompt of Killian or Emma singing to the other after a nightmare. Canon compliant, taking place sometime after 7x02 and before the finale.

candle on the water

Minnesota, 1991
Children's Group Home

"She's faking it."

Emma looked over Mrs. Cooper's shoulder at Kayla, leaning against the doorway with her a sour look on her face. The thermometer jammed uncomfortably in Emma's mouth kept her from sticking her tongue out at the other girl, Kayla had been nothing but a bitch since Emma had arrived at the group home and here she was again, sticking her nose in where it didn't belong.

"Kayla, you're going to miss the bus," Mrs. Cooper said without turning around, one hand pressed to Emma's forehead. She took the thermometer and squinted at it, while Kayla craned her neck and tried to get a look at the number on the little screen. Emma hunched forward, the scratchy, donated pajamas were making her back itch again and felt damp and gross after a night of tossing and turning and barely making it to the bathroom down the hall before she threw up that morning.

"You've got a bit of a fever honey, it's probably best if you stay home from school today."

"What?" Kayle screeched, dropping her faux-fur backpack on the floor with a thump. "No way! If she's sick then so am I, she probably gave it to me and I should get to stay home from school too!"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Cooper snapped, getting up off of Emma's bed and turning around to shoo Kayle out of the room. "You already skipped twice last week and now I've got to set up another meeting with your principal and your social worker to discuss your attendance issues, you are not sick and you are going to school today, young lady!"

Emma felt too crappy to tell Mrs. Cooper that Kayla had actually skipped school three times last week, not two, and had gone to the mall with two older boys to shoplift cassettes from the music store and had hidden them under her mattress. Besides, Emma wasn't a snitch, even if Kayla deserved to be hauled off to juvie, snitches got their ass beat and their stuff messed with. Still, she smiled as Kayla angrily snatched up her backpack and went stomping down the stairs, followed a minute later by the loud slam of the front door. Mrs. Cooper sighed at the sound, shaking her head. Emma almost felt sorry for her, but she knew by now that the woman would probably be gone in a few months anyway and a new housemother would come in and change all the rules again, no one ever stayed for long working at the group home and there was no point in feeling bad for any of them. Even the nice ones.

Especially the nice ones, cause it always hurt the most when they left.

Mrs. Cooper was one of the okay ones. She told Emma that she had a lot of work to do and would be in her office most of the day, but Emma could watch TV if she wanted instead of having to stay in bed, as long as she didn't make too much noise. Emma dug out her baby blanket from her own hiding place and brought it down with her to the TV room, since she knew it would be safe with all of the other kids at school until three. The older kids usually hogged the remote and never let anyone else pick what show to watch, so Emma didn't even care that the saltines Mrs. Cooper brought from the locked pantry to help settle her stomach were the lame store-brand kind that always broke when you tried to take them out of the package and tasted like cardboard. She clutched the remote tight on her lap all through The Price is Right and when it was over and some dumb soap opera started she started flicking through all the channels, careful to keep the volume down so that Mrs. Cooper wouldn't get all mad and make her go back to bed. Boring news shows, and even more boring M*A*S*H rerun, that was playing on two different channels for some reason, an infomercial for a cooking thing that could make breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert, and she changed channels again because the grilled cheese sandwich the lady was making in it looked good and was making her hungry. She wished the VCR wasn't broken again or that they got one of the cool channels like MTV, burrowing a bit more into her blanket.

"And now back to the KSTP afternoon movie, Pete's Dragon."

Emma watched as the TV screen was filled with a little, old-fashioned looking town next to the ocean. She sort of knew this movie, it was one of those old Disney ones that had real people and cartoons all mixed together, like Mary Poppins. The older kids would call it a baby movie, especially Kayla, who hid makeup she wasn't supposed to be wearing in her backpack, but the older kids and Kayla were all at school and Emma could watch whatever she wanted to without anyone making fun of her.

She leaned her head against one of the cushions as the movie played on. Pete was a boy, an orphan about the same age as her, but he had a dragon named Elliott who helped him escape from the bad people who'd bought him and together they made their way to the small town by the ocean. They met a lady named Nora, whose boyfriend died in a shipwreck, and her dad the lighthouse-keeper, and all the other townspeople, living happily with them until the bad people showed up and tried to capture Elliott. He got away, and used his breath to relight the fire at the top of the lighthouse after it went out, saving the life of Nora's boyfriend, who wasn't dead, he just had amnesia and forgot her until he got better and had come back on another ship. They invited Pete to stay and join their family, and he said goodbye Elliott, who flew away to look for another kid like Pete to help.

There was also a *lot* of singing. Emma didn't like to sing, not anymore.

It was kind of a baby movie. Orphans like Pete didn't just find new families like that. They ended up in foster care and their chances of adoption went down the older they got. The social workers called it statistics, Emma knew it meant that there wasn't a happy, ready-made family out there waiting for her, or Kayla, or any of the other older kids. In real life Nora and her boyfriend would just have their own baby. And dragons definitely weren't real.

The songs were okay though, and her favourite was the one Nora sang while looking out over the ocean from the lighthouse balcony when she was missing her boyfriend, even though it was the slow one.

"I'll be your candle on the water,
My love for you will always burn.
I know you're lost, and drifting,
But the clouds are lifting.

Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn."

Some Years Later
Storybrooke, Maine.

"How's the morning sickness today, sweetheart?"

Emma held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, reaching up for the box of saltines in the cupboard.

"More like Killian-tired-to-bring-fresh-mackerel-in-the-house-sickness today," she said to her mother with a wince. "The smell was just….ugh."

Snow laughed softly. "Oh, I remember that. I had to bolt from a ball once when I was pregnant with you and they were passing around caviar hor d'oeuvres, your poor father found me throwing up in a decorative urn out on the balcony."

"Yeah, pregnancy and fish just don't seem to mix. Which is a little awkward when you're married to a man who views it as an essential food group."

"Guess it runs in the family," Snow said, and Emma could practically see her mother's smile even over the phone. "You do kind of have my chin."

She started to nibble on one of the saltines while Snow chatted on, hoping Killian would be back soon with the ginger ale he'd gone out to get after discovering they were all out while she was puking her guts up in the bathroom. He felt terrible about the whole mackerel incident, quickly apologizing to both her and the baby for upsetting them before slamming the lid back on the cooler and taking it out onto the porch. Emma loved that he was teaching her little brother how to fish, but maybe the rather pungent fruits of their labour could stay on the Jolly Roger and out of her kitchen for right now.

"Oh! Before I forget, I got a letter from Ruby, after the baby shower she and Dorothy are going to finally take that road trip out to Kansas that they keep talking about before they go back to Oz."

It was a little odd that the guest list for Emma's upcoming baby shower included both the actual Wicked Witch of the West and Dorothy, but such was life in the small town of Storybrooke Maine, where almost everyone was a fairytale character, including Emma's own husband and the father of her unborn child, the fearsome Captain Hook himself.

A very sheepish Captain Hook, when he returned home from the grocery store toting a reusable shopping bag stuffed with ginger ale, another box of saltines, the good kind and not the lame store brand that always broke as soon you tried to take one out of the sleeve and tasted like cardboard, a bouquet of roses and a scented candle.

Two scented candles.

Three scented candles.

Candles kept appearing from the bag until over half a dozen jars were crowded together on the kitchen table, cinnamon stick, eucalyptus, bayberry, fresh linen. Emma rested a hand on the swell of her stomach and raised an eyebrow at Killian, noting how the tips of his ears had gone red.

"I thought a candle might help if there was any lingering odor from the mackerel, but I wasn't sure if there were any other scents you and the bean were particularly sensitive to right now so I thought I should get a backup, just in case, but then what if you didn't like that one either so I procured a backup for the backup, and then-"

"A backup for that one too?" Emma finished, trying not to laugh.

"Aye, well. It seemed like a good idea at the market."

She'd used Febreeze and a bit of magic to get rid of the icky fish smell once she'd come out of the bathroom, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless and she shuffled forward to wrap her arms around his neck while he shifted his hips to make room for the baby between them. Pregnancy was hard, and exhausting, she wasn't seventeen this time around and morning sickness had teamed up with midnight heartburn to seriously kick her ass, but she had Killian and her parents and half the town on speed dial, ready to drop everything and come to the Saviour's aid.

It had taken her years to find the home Neal had once talked about, and almost as long to accept that Storybrooke was, in fact, that place, but now that she had it was like a cloud had lifted and while her life would never be simple, she wasn't living it alone.

They had takeout from Granny's for dinner instead of fresh-caught mackerel - grilled cheese, with a side of sauerkraut, because Emma had a craving for it and Killian knew better than to ask why the smell of fish made her throw up but fermented cabbage was OK - and finished the movie she'd fallen asleep halfway through the night before. After their wedding, once things had finally quieted down in Storybrooke (not that they were ever completely calm in a town where Moby Dick might surface in the harbour on a random Sunday and a pair of actual dragons lived in a house down the street and threw weekly barbecues that had a tendency to set neighbouring cars on fire) they'd finally had time for what Henry dubbed Operation Pop Culture, a.k.a getting Killian more familiar with The Land Without Magic. Specifically, the movies, TV shows, books and music that everyone with curse memories was already aware of and even though Henry was off on his own adventure now, they still made time at least once a week to keep the operation going in his honour.

Star Wars. Back to the Future. Indiana Jones. Harry Potter. They made their way through several TV shows on Netflix and watched the animated Disney classics. Which was...interesting, to actually sit down and rewatch them all now that she knew the real stories behind the catchy songs and all the happily ever afters. They'd taken a bit of a break after Peter Pan, for obvious reasons, and Emma was sure watching it had been a huge mistake, but Killian said he wanted to see her frame of reference for all the people that now made up their family and friends, to understand why she had such a hard time reconciling that Mary Margaret and David really were Snow White and Prince Charming at first, or that magic was actually real.

It had been more difficult for the both of them than she'd expected, but just like letting her son follow his own path, sometimes difficult was necessary.

Now they were in the midst of what Emma described to Henry during their enchanted mirror Skype sessions as, "Disney Movies Starring People We Don't Know and Aren't Related To (We Think)" that had started after a bout of magic gone wrong had resulted in Killian and David switching bodies, literally on a Friday too, so naturally they had to watch Freaky Friday once the spell was undone and everyone was thankfully back where they belonged, which wasn't Killian-in-David's-body sleeping on their couch and David-in-Killian's accidentally scratching the shit out of everything in the farmhouse with the hook until Snow finally took it away in exasperation.

Mary Poppins. Honey I Shrunk the Kids. The Parent Trap and Herbie the Love Bug (like with Freaky Friday, the originals only, not the Lindsay Lohan remakes) Pete's Dragon. Escape to Witch Mountain. Emma had seen some of them before, some were new to her, and the easy, family-friendly movies with simple plots and happy endings were just the thing to relax with in the evenings, especially with their own family expanding literally day by day.

By the time David Freeman made it back to 1978 and his parents and brother after travelling through time in Flight of the Navigator, Emma was stifling her yawns, her head pillowed on Killian's chest and his fingers playing gently with her hair. She was already in her pajamas, or more accurately, his, since the waistband on the flannel pants was still stretchy enough for her stomach and his T-shirts fit much better than hers right now, plus they were all soft and comfy. The baby was already asleep and Emma wasn't that far behind, Killian took care of locking up and turning off the lights while she made her way upstairs and drowsily brushed her teeth.

"Goodnight, my love," he said once they were settled in bed, spooned up behind her with his strong thighs warm against the backs of hers, bracing her against any possible storm brewing on the horizon, even if it was just midnight heartburn again. His hand drifted down to her stomach, as it did every night. "Goodnight, little bean."

Ever since the pregnancy tracking app on her phone had compared the size of their then eight week old embryo to a jelly bean, Killian had called the baby their own magic bean and even though he or she (they were keeping it a surprise) was now supposedly the size of a papaya according to that same app, the "little bean" nickname had stuck.

"Night, Killian. Love you too."

She was up again around two, thankfully not because of heartburn, but she needed to pee and she was hungry. Emma went downstairs after she'd used the bathroom, leaving Killian to sleep while she rooted around for something to nosh on. The house was dark, shadowed, the half-finished nursery stacked with boxes and Henry's old room still had comic books on the shelves and photos tacked around the mirror.

Her children, both were with her in some ways, and absent in others.

The overhead light was too bright to deal with in the middle of the night so she flicked her fingers absently at one of the candles and it flared to life in an echo of the magic flaring under her skin. It illuminated just enough so she didn't trip over the rolled-up bottoms of Killian's pj pants or stub her toe on any of the kitchen chairs. She wasn't sure which one it was exactly, but the smell was nice.

Emma started humming under her breath while she debated between what was left of the sauerkraut or throwing some poptarts in the toaster when a noise from upstairs made her freeze. A faint thump, and then another, and then a loud cry that had magic bursting alongside the adrenaline that flooded her when she heard her husband scream. Without thinking about it she teleported herself upstairs and as the smoke cleared she saw he was sitting up in bed, pillows thrown to the floor and the hook clutched in his hand. He had a more modern brace to attach it to now instead of the old contraption of leather straps and buckles, but he didn't sleep with it on and it was usually left on the nightstand next to his phone charger. His phone was providing the bit of light in the room, Emma could see the picture of herself that he had set as his lockscreen smiling at her and then it turned off and the room was plunged into darkness, but not before she caught a glimpse of Killian's face, eyes wide and terrified.

"Swan?"

His voice wavered and cracked while she climbed onto the bed, a bit awkwardly thanks to the extra weight she was carrying, plucking the hook from his unresisting fingers and setting it aside. He curled into her helplessly and she felt that his skin was damp, clammy, as if he'd just had a fever, but of course that wasn't what it was.

"Nightmare?"

A shaky nod that she felt rather than saw, and a wave of her hand and a wish for light brought up the candle from the kitchen, it appeared on her dresser still lit and filled the room with a soft glow. It wasn't the first time that one of them had had a bad dream, leaving the past and all its scars was still a bit of an ongoing project that, like the nursery, they were working on together.

"What was it this time?" Emma asked, although she had a good idea when his hand instantly found her stomach. After a beat Killian confirmed her suspicion with a single word, "Pan."

Sometimes it was the Underworld, sometimes it was being the Dark One, sometimes it was something older, like his brother, or his father, but ever since the pregnancy test had turned positive Killian's nightmares tended to revolve around Peter Pan.

"He came for our little bean through the window...and I couldn't...Emma, I couldn't stop him."

Emma saw that the window had been left open a crack and the curtains were fluttering in the breeze, a small, simple thing, unless you were Captain Hook and your wife was pregnant with your child.

Killian Jones sagged into her side, his arms around her waist and his head on her chest. Peter Pan was dead, the Lost Boys had all grown up and that story was over. Emma dreamed about him too, sometimes, just like she also dreamed about the Underworld and her time as the Dark One as Killian did, and like him she also had her own old traumas making a reappearance. Getting arrested for something and having to give birth in shackles again, or having to leave Killian behind as she and their little bean were forced to leave Storybrooke and forgetting him as soon as she crossed the town line.

Weekly sessions with Archie helped, but in the middle of the night when it was just the two of them they didn't talk much about the dreams themselves, they just held each other and found other ways to take shelter from storms made of memories and regrets.

She held Killian and hummed to him under her breath, softly at first, the same tune she'd once hummed into a cassette recorder as a forgotten child living in a shitty group home in Minnesota. The song was still in her heart and she drew on it again, but it wasn't for herself this time, it was for her sailor, lost at sea and seeking his way back home.

"I'll be your candle on the water
My love for you will always burn
I know you're lost and drifting
But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn."

The flame flickered and bounced, light spilling across the bed as Killian's shoulders started to relax and the lingering tension from his nightmare drained away while Emma sang a song she hadn't quite remembered and never really forgotten.

"A cold and friendless tide has found you,
Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down.
I'll paint a ray of hope around you,
Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer.

"I'll be your candle on the water,
This flame inside of me will grow.
Keep holding on, you'll make it,
Here's my hand, so take it.

Look for me reaching out to show,
As sure as rivers flow,

Killian joined in on the final verse, his forehead resting against hers as the magic that bound them let them share the song and their voices mixed together in a promise to each other and to their little bean, held between them and loved, so loved already.

I'll never let you go,
I'll never let you go,
ll never let you go."

(I chose this song because it's always been one of my underrated Disney favourites, and I think it fits perfectly as a CS song as well, I just cut one of the verses for length)