epilogue: no longer ships in the night

~eight months later~

A light breeze on the placid, sunlit June morning comes in the opened windows of Storybrooke's library, as Belle has opened them all to air the stuffy old building which sometimes takes on a bit of a musty smell along with the alluring scent of ancient pages. It has never bothered the librarian, reminding her more of adventures yet to be taken, but she knows it can be a bit off-putting for most, as it can even tickle her nose a bit from time to time.

Liam had helped her push them all up to let in the morning air before he left for the docks that morning in the early pre-dawn light. The gentle gusts had ruffled her hair as she looked up into his rugged face, her word of thanks for helping with the corner frame that always sticks catching in her throat as he touched her face to brush off a flyaway strand, complete awe and adoration on his features, and she nearly forgot how to breathe. Tucking the auburn lock delicately behind her ear, his fingers had lingered and she'd bitten her lip, shiver running through her, and she suddenly didn't want him to go even as far as the water today, wanted to lock everyone else out, hold him close, and never let go.

"There you are, Lass," his warm voice, low and deep, had prolonged the shudders in her stomach. He seemed hesitant to leave as well, even if he would return on his lunch hour as he often did; often stretching it to an hour and a half or ever two, and no one in town seems inclined to complain, or even notice. If they spend that extra half hour in a far back corner like two lovestruck miscreant teenagers, his pleasantly solid weight pressed against her while she leaned back against the shelf of outdated encyclopedias no one ever looked at anymore… well, Belle smiles, deviously pleased with herself, that's their little secret.

Now, however, at half past noon, he is back with her and his lunch isn't yet over. Liam doesn't need to leave for another half hour at least, and he has joined her in re-shelving books the town's residents have finished and returned. She is up on the ladder, sliding her beloved tales back into their places in the stacks, while Liam follows along with the cart, handing them up to her and – she knows – staying at the ready if she would reach too far, lose her balance, or risk falling in any way. She shakes her head slightly, knowing it's a slim chance any such thing would happen – she's been up and down ladders in libraries as long as she's been able to walk – but she can't help the touched, affectionate chuckle to herself. Liam's protective streak a mile wide is just one of the many things she loves about him.

As if sensing her mother's happy mood, Belle's daughter chortles happily from her bassinet in the corner, waving her chubby little hands gleefully at the two of them and jabbering in her own cheery baby language.

"Is that so, Little Lass?" Liam calls over good naturedly, causing Mina Collette to squeal in delight at the sound of her favorite voice after her mother's.

Belle smiles at both of them from her perch; a few short months ago, she could never have imagined the scene before her. It had seemed nearly impossible to have things work out this way – with nearly all her girlish hopes for a home and family of her own come true. Liam has turned out to be a doting surrogate father; she amends even that with a quick glance down at the glittering ring on her finger and a flush comes to her cheeks; he is soon to be father in name and law as well. He is completely wrapped around the infant's finger, and could not love Mina any more if she were actually from his own flesh and blood. Belle can't help but think that this is just another way her literature-inspired name suits her little girl. Just as Mina Harker had inspired the devoted protection and chivalry of an entire team of men in Bram Stoker's classic, her daughter seems to have done much the same in Liam, Killian, Henry, and almost anyone else she comes into contact with. Belle had chosen the name for one of the first bravely self-possessed and intelligent female heroines in Victorian writing, hoping her daughter would be as stalwart and true in whatever she might face, with the middle name a tribute to her own beloved and long lost mother. However, she has found that the second fit is amusingly apt as well.

At any rate, this brilliant, noble, giving man, who laid down whatever childhood he could have had in indentured servitude to try to be father, example, and only family to his younger brother could well have been lost here in this modern world – a man out of time, purposeless, drifting. Instead, he has found his place, and quite possibly a sense of belonging, fulfillment, and happiness he never would have in his own. Watching him now as he meanders over to peer down at Mina, whispering sweet gibberish to her and entertaining her with funny faces, Belle's whole chest swells full enough to feel as if it may burst with love and pride for him.

It hadn't taken long, once things finally settled down with Rumple's defeat, for them to set Liam up as Storybrooke's harbormaster, monitoring the comings and goings from the town's small port, making sure fishermen, pleasure boats, and all are lawfully satisfied and co-existing safely, as well as keeping the docks clean and well cared for. The question of why the coastal town didn't already have such a person had led to Killian's shamefaced explanation of Cora turning the last one into a fish when they had first arrived on his ship some years back, when he had still been a villain and in cahoots with her, looking on without protest. That poor man had actually been easily found once they knew – most large fish don't linger right at the surface looking up at folks on the dock as if they want to be scooped out – and put back to rights, but he understandably wanted no part of his former position. Liam is good at the job, naturally suited for it as well as possessing experience, plus he loves it and finds fulfillment there – as he does with she and Mina – but Belle would never begrudge him the exhilaration on his face, the twinkle in his eyes and the windswept hair when he returns from a day on the water. It does her heart good to see him so satisfied.

Liam has just glanced back to her, a mischievous quirk to his smile that make her nerve endings tingle just knowing he is about to cross the room in those ground-eating long strides and sweep her into his arms for a kiss, just like the dashing gallant men in her books whom she has dreamed of since she was a young girl. Her handsome hero found her at last. Her sailor has taken his first step toward her ladder perch when they hear the library's main door open. They smile at each other wryly, knowing just how Emma and Killian have felt for so long, always being interrupted, the sparkle of 'later' a promise in both of their eyes when they hear Henry call out a greeting a moment before he appears around the corner of the stacks.

"Hey Grandma!" he greets playfully, though she will soon be his aunt. "Uncle Liam," he adds with a happy bob of his head. Mina squeals with glee from her spot at the sound of Henry's voice, equating it with bottles and stories the young man has been only to happy to provide while Belle feeds her many evenings after whole family dinners.

Henry grins, blushing with pride in an endearing way at the babe's recognition of him, and both Liam and Belle look on the sweet scene with love as the teen moves over to greet his young cousin, leaning over to the edge of her crib to speak with her and dangling his fingers for her to grab. Clearly, he has come on a mission though, because once Mina has settled a bit, cooing occasionally still but calm, Henry turns back to them and steps forward, and a question clearly on his mind.

"So," he opens tentatively, looking from one to the other's expectant face and then plunging on, "Violet's birthday is next week, and I want to give her something she'll really enjoy, and something she'll know is from me. I'm just not sure what. If I ask Killian, he'll give me too dramatic, grand gesture ideas – things I can't pull off – and neither of my moms want us getting too serious for our age, whatever that means, so they'll just suggest something nice but generic!" He looked up, his brow wrinkled as if personally offended by that last bit. "She's special," he concludes after a short pause, "not every girl would understand all the crazy that comes with this family. Anyway… I was hoping maybe you two would have some ideas."

"Well," Liam ponders, smiling down at Henry paternally, a hand to his shoulder for a moment. "We're honored, aren't we, Darling?"

"Of course," Belle agrees happily, her clever eyes sparkling in such a way that it's clear she is already thinking on his request and simply bursting with ideas. Giving Liam a swift, silent glance; the two of them seem so in tune as to exchange a bit of conversation without speaking aloud at all.

He nods his assent, and then looks back to his nephew, offering. "Well, Lad, you want something that says it's from you and speaks of your connection, things the two of you have shared… What about a book? You are the Author after all. You met Violet in a land straight out of storybook and legend, and it is my understanding the two of you made quite a journey to a faraway city to see another library much larger than this one. Perhaps the written word would be the most fitting symbol?"

Belle nods vigorously, clearly full of suggestions if he seems interested. "Oh yes, Henry! Books make the best gifts!" She gestures a bit too excitedly causing the ladder to sway, and Liam to quickly steady it with his large hands.

"Easy there, Lass!" he says with doting, humored affection.

Henry shakes his head at them, both at the suggestion he should have seen coming, and at the fact that they are becoming almost as sickeningly sweet as his mom and Killian. This makes sense, but there are so many books to choose from – so many stories – and Violet has been so understanding, so patient and supportive through so much craziness. He really wants this gift to say thank you, to be just right for her and show her how special she is – just how very much she means to him. Tilting his head slightly in thought, he offers, "Okay, a book does seem right, I'll admit, but which one?"

Liam speaks up first, "I've always found tales of adventure and valor to be the most gripping reads, especially if set at sea, but perhaps those aren't the most suited to courtship or a young lady's interests…"

"Depends on the young lady," Belle counters with an arched brow from her perch, making Henry snort a surprised guffaw at her quick comeback.

Liam merely nods to his love in deference, "Point taken. What about poetry?" he asks Henry. "Do women not still love Shakespeare's sonnets or the other blokes with romantic verse…um, Keats? Or Browning, maybe?"

Belle thinks for a moment. "Browning is lovely," she muses, "but isn't poetry a bit predictable? Too obvious?"

Liam is the one who snorts this time, shaking his head at them both. "Predictable?" he challenges, "or popular because it works?"

"Fair enough," Belle concedes, grinning at his antics and thinking once more that now she knows the older brother and role model, her friend Killian's quick-witted banter, his sense of humor, and his gentlemanly manner, and his caring nature all make perfect sense. Still, after a moment beaming at him, she turns to Henry once more. "Poetry wouldn't be a bad choice, Henry. But, I have another idea. Violet strikes me as not being too fussy – despite the time and place she hails from. I can't help but think she would enjoy a bit of adventure and humor with her love stories." She tilts her head in consideration then stretches far enough off to her left that Liam jumps to counteract the motion from below, overprotective but determined to be there if she would fall. However, this time the petite librarian manages without mishap, straightening up with a small, gilt-edged red leather-bound book. "What if you tried your mom's favorite?"

Henry looks puzzled for a moment, then flushes as Belle hands the tome she has laid hold of to him and he glimpses the title. "The Princess Bride…Oh, like the movie?" he asks, "Did they make it from this book? Mom did just have Killian watch this at our last movie night!"

The young Author opens the book curiously and begins to leaf through the open pages, reading passages. "How'd you know this was Mom's favorite?" he asks after a few minutes.

"She told me once," Belle says. "That, and she checked it out several times in the first couple of years she was here in town…said she'd loved it since she was your age. Tell you what," Belle says, "You keep that – regardless. The library could stand to have a more recent printing anyway."

"Thanks!" Henry exclaims brightly, smile wide as he looks to her and Liam. "You guys were a lot of help. I do think Violet will like this!"

He talks with them a few more minutes, but before long Henry is bidding his goodbyes and heading on. Belle smiles after him, and then turns to see Liam doing the same, looking after the young man with genuine affection.

Belle reaches out to take his hand in hers, smiling up at him, just marveling at the genuine, sensitive caring he has for all those he loves, and as he gazes back at her, she marvels at the openness in his eyes – no secrets or holding back. He wants to let her in, to share a life in which she has an equal part, and she cannot help but lift his palm to her lips and kiss it in this moment. This love is so different from what she'd grown used to, and she is grateful for that.

"What is it, Lass?" Liam asks softly, a gentle smile on his face at her action and the soft smile she is directing at him. When she pulls back from the kiss to his hand, he simply pulls their joined ones to press over his heart.

She merely shrugs at him easily. "You're pretty wonderful, Captain Jones. That's all. You know that, don't you?"

He shakes his head and flushes red, making him even more adorable, "If I'm wonderful, which I am not so sure about, Love. It is only because you have given me a way to show it."

~~~~~ 000000 ~~~~~

That night finds them relaxed at home on the long, cushy couch they have put in the corner of Mina's nursery, for nights like this when they want to relax together but still want to watch over their little girl a bit longer. Mina Collette herself has been asleep for at least an hour, her lovely long eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks as she dreams of whatever sweet and innocent things are viewed in infant slumber. Not a sound but the occasional small snuffle or peaceful little sigh comes from the crib.

Belle and Liam revel in the quiet of the moonlit shadows around the room, a lovely calm settling over the space – allowing them to relax and simply be. After some coaxing, Liam has stretched out on the couch, his head resting in his love's lap, stretching the knee that had been twisted slightly when some crates took a tumble and he dove to catch them – once he had returned to work at the docks that afternoon. It is nothing really; he has had much worse in his long life and afterlife, but it seems to please his lady to tend him, to offer help and have her expertise and caring be accepted. He knows she has spent too long being disregarded, kept in the dark, or left out of affairs of which she had every right to be part, and so he had let her fuss without comment. Truth be told, though he knows Belle is not magic as Killian's Emma is, he finds that his lovely brunette's very touch is as soothing to him as any cure could be.

For her part, Belle runs her fingers through her sailor's tight, close-cropped curls, marveling at their softness and the vulnerable way he gave himself up to her ministrations – knowing it did her as much good as it would really do him. She pauses for a moment in the reading she had been doing, aloud, for the both of them to enjoy and looks around, savoring this cozy nursery room and this little cottage at the edge of Storybrooke's forest, the shore in view from their back porch; her whole life now compared to the turmoil and sadness of just before and at Mina's birth a mere half year ago. So much has changed, and for the better, that it almost takes her breath away.

"Alright there, Lass?" Liam's voice questions, low and relaxed, but he still senses her thinking as she pauses and wants to make sure she is alright.

Belle shakes her head gently as she comes back to the present and glances down to meet Liam's eyes, brushing light fingertips over his brow. "More than alright," she whispers softly, not wanting to disturb the perfect tranquility of this moment. "This is the life I always wanted," she explains softly. "I can't believe sometimes that I am finally living it."

"Aye," Liam affirms in a warm murmur, reaching out to twine the fingers of her free hand with his, his larger digits almost fully enveloping her own and bringing their joined hands to his chest. "I know exactly what you mean."

Mina gives a sleepy little coo from her crib, and he and Belle share another smile at her peaceful sleep; despite her rough beginning, the infant seems to have all her mother's determination and pluck, bearing no ill effects of the first few tumultuous days of her young life and sleeping soundly without the fears that haunt those who have lived a bit longer.

"Let's read a bit more, shall we?" Belle suggests eagerly. Her enthusiasm for someone who will share the written word she loves so much with her both endearing and contagious.

"Certainly, Lass… if you aren't tired of reading, that is. In fact, this reminds me of long ago – one of the few pleasant memories of Killian and my time on that ship as boys. Some nights in that dark hold, if the sea was rough or if we'd been sent to our bunks without food, Killian couldn't sleep. I'd find the stub of a candle and a bit of flint to strike, and read to him. He was voracious in his love of stories, adored hearing the words read aloud, even if all I was able to find was a discarded page of some log or a shipping order." He chuckles softly, and then continues, "Having you read to me now, like this, in our home together… I can see why he loved it so."

Belle blinks a bit through misty eyes, watching Liam's face as he speaks. Picturing the two frightened, mistreated, and abandoned young boys they had been, hearing what they had gone through, and knowing especially the worry and pain Liam had endured in feeling responsible for his younger brother but often not being able to do much for him, always affected her so. For the moment though, she pushes that sympathetic ache aside; just as her worst days are behind her now, so are her captain's. This moment they have now is beautiful, and she isn't ready for it to end. "I'm glad," she replies, scanning the page to find where they had left off in Longfellow's poem once more, and picking it up again, "Ah! What pleasant visions haunt me as I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams, come back to me…"

She reads with lilting cadence, and Liam hums softly, as if approving the words, looking so comfortable and pleased as he lies there before her, eyes closed and nearly drifting off, he could almost be a cat purring as one strokes behind its ears. She smiles even more brightly as she comes to the final stanza, "Til my soul is full of longing for the secrets of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me."

Upon finishing, Belle closes the book gently, sitting it on the end table at her elbow and turning off the one lamp still lit in the room. She almost believes Liam truly asleep, until he turns slightly, pressing his face to her warm stomach through her robe.

"That was lovely, Belle." His whispered words send tingles along her skin deliciously, the love in his voice clear. "Thank you."

Neither of them move, content to be in this moment as long as it can possibly last. To be here now, Liam thinks in the softness of long, blue shadows and the moonlight's glow on Belle's pale, perfect face, makes all his long struggle worthwhile.