Good news! I found internet access on my vacation. Here's the last little bit to wrap up this story.

Enjoy.

"You're never going to put her down, are you?" Emma observed her husband holding their three-day-old daughter in his arms in the living room of their cottage babbling about various nautical terms. He was determined to start his daughter's education about sailing early in life. If he'd had his way, Emma would have given birth aboard his ship. He said she was born to captain her own ship as she'd been conceived aboard one.

They'd come home from the hospital earlier that day, and Killian hadn't left his daughter's side, hadn't so much as put her down.

"Why would I want to? She's so cuddly," he smiled as he pressed his lips to the infant's forehead, "Like her mother."

"We still need to figure out a name," she replied as she extended her hand to the little girl, wrapping the tiny hand around her finger, "Baby Girl Jones is only going to work for so long."

"I suppose we haven't argued about this for a good three hours," he chuckled, "We're due."

"This really shouldn't be that difficult," she sighed as she nibbled playfully at the soft hand. As enamored as her husband was, she was just as much. If Killian hadn't been holding her, Emma would have been. "It took my parents three seconds to name Leo."

"This would have been easy if this little beauty was a boy," he grumbled slightly. They'd agreed on naming their child after his brother if it had been a boy, but the girl in his arms snuck up on them. They'd both been so sure they were having a boy even though they'd never asked the doctor to confirm their suspicions, nor had they asked Mary Margaret for the use of the necklace David's mother had given her. "And the name Liam is just not going to work."

"But I wouldn't trade her for anything," Emma brought the tiny hand to her lips and kissed the softness.

"Nor would I." Killian was glowing. Fatherhood, although brief, certainly agreed with him. He hadn't stopping smiling since the moment he'd first held his daughter, even when she was putting her lungs through a workout. "Your mother suggested Eva, after her mother."

"And my father suggested Ruth," Emma added, "I can't choose one over the other, so they're both out."

"Back to square one," he laughed, "What do you think, Sweetheart? What name would you like?"

"She's a little young to be voicing her own opinion," Emma snickered as she pulled out a book of names that she'd procured when she was pregnant in the off chance this happened. "So Killian is of Irish descent, how about we pick something equally Irish?"

"I'm open for suggestions," he waited for her to start listing names.

Emma flipped to the section she'd marked and began reading through several names when one in particular seemed to catch their attention enough that they both repeated in unison, "Fallon."

"I rather like that," Killian replied as he locked eyes with his daughter, "What do you think?"

The little girl didn't say a peep.

"What is the origin?" he asked.

"It is Irish and Gaelic and means descended from a ruler," Emma replied.

"Considering her grandparents are Snow White and Prince Charming, I'd say that certainly fits," he chuckled.

Henry bounced into the room and plopped down on the sofa next to his mother. "Does my sister have a name yet?"

"We think so," Emma replied, "Say hello to your baby sister, Fallon."

"Fallon, what a unique name," Mary Margaret noted as she and her husband popped into the cottage with their own infant sound asleep against David's shoulder.

"It means descendant of a ruler," Emma explained, "And considering her lineage, we took that as a sign."

"Welcome to the family, Fallon," Mary Margaret cooed as she took the baby's other hand. Reluctantly Killian handed his daughter over to Mary Margaret as the proud grandmother added, "Do we have a story to tell you. Once upon a time…"

Emma sat herself next to her husband, their left hands linking together as her head came to rest against his chest. They all listened to the familiar tale, not from a storybook but from their life.

"Are you warm enough, Love?" he asked as he brought his right arm around her shoulders when he thought he felt her shiver.

"Yes," she whispered, "Thanks to you I'm always going to be warm."

"It's all about heat, Love," he spoke into her hear, "And you bring it out in me."

The End.

And so that brings us to the end of this journey. I'm toying around with a sequel, which brings a wicked witch by the name of Sabella to Storybrooke. If that is something that you'd like to read, let me know, and I'll get to work.

Thank you again for the warm welcome to the Oncer world. I hope you'll join me for my next adventure.