I woke up one morning and this story was stuck in my head and it refused to let go. It's full of Captain Swan angst and I honestly don't see how it can have a happy ending for poor Killian (and I have an overwhelming need to give him happy endings).

Still, I had to get this out or risk it constantly hanging in the corner of my mind. It might be a one shot, or maybe if enough people demand it, I will continue and see where it goes. Up in the air at this point.

(Note: Also working on finishing chapter for Leaving Neverland and another one shot in progress. The ideas are coming faster than I can write them.)

Much thanks to Arandil for being my awesome beta.

So without further ado, here's a quick AU where it didn't take one year for Killian to find Emma. It took five years.

Anticipation clenched in Killian's gut, swirling with hope, joy and a dozen other emotions he fought to control.

Five years and fifty-three days from when Regina had sent them back to the Enchanted Forest, after he'd watched Emma and Henry drive across the town line—their memories of Storybrooke stolen — and he finally returned to The Land Without Magic.

Manhattan to be precise.

Who knew the path back to Emma would be so bloody complicated?

Three realms, countless dead ends and failed plans. Arguments with her family—on whether to leave her to her new life, wrapped in fake happy memories but alone, except for her boy.

Though as Killian spied a familiar face walking to the large building he'd watched for the last few hours, he saw Henry wasn't a boy anymore, but a young man. A handsome one, too.

So much time lost.

It took all his willpower not to approach Henry, his relief at finding him—both of them—so strong he'd have collapsed from the weight if not already seated on a bench.

He would wait for her. For Emma.

Five bloody years he'd kept his promises. He thought of her every day, remembering the look in her eyes as she'd handed him hope with one word, cursing himself for not taking her lips with his. How could he, when he feared he'd be unable to release her, or worse, he'd break the thin thread holding her composure together and release the sobs waiting to erupt from her with the smallest provocation.

After she learned her memory would revert her to the unwanted, unloved orphan—forced to accept the false memories from Regina as the only option in a losing scenario—he saw her wish to remember them all crystal clear in her gaze. As her tear stained eyes met his, he'd sworn another silent vow to save her.

His Swan was strong, capable of holding her own, preferring to fight her own battles.

But even she couldn't fight the price of staying with her son, not knowing a battle even existed.

He'd sworn to fight this battle for her, even before the purple smoke tore them away.

In all honesty, he fought for them as well, for they each made the other stronger, better. Happy, during the moments she lowered her walls and allowed him in.

His motives as he searched for a way to travel back to her world were not wholly pure or altruistic, though he knew in some part of his soul, had she not gifted him with hope in their last good-bye, he would still have taken on this quest.

He had to see her again, no matter the outcome.

The certainty Emma was his true love carried him through the despair threatening to swallow him with each failure and setback to reach her.

Of course, the question of whether he was her true love in return tormented him many a nightmare ridden night. The dreams mocked him and his belief, calling him insane for daring to put so much faith in the only thing he had left: hope.

Even her father—who Killian swore had hope running through his princely blood—had declared Killian should give up. David begged him not to leave the Enchanted Forest, to go on the desperate realm jumping journey in search of a way to find his way back—all routes from the Enchanted Forest blocked.

"Not a day goes by I don't miss Emma, but it's been three years, Hook. Even if her memories return, she has a life now that doesn't include us, or magic. Imagine what learning the truth could do to her and her life. We need you here, fighting with us, not traveling to another realm with no guarantee you'll find a way to Emma from there either." The agony of defeat covering the prince surprised and saddened Killian.

He sighed, giving the only argument David could understand. "Imagine it's your wife who has this new life and no memory of you for these last three years. What would you do then, mate?"

David gave Hook a weak smile, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Perhaps you have enough hope for the both of us. Name what you need for your journey, and it's yours."

A month later Killian left them, a deep foreboding in his gut as rumors of the witch creating a new curse rocked the land.

"Hook, if you find Emma, do me a favor?" David wore his "prince" face, mirroring his good-bye to Emma all those years ago.

"When I find her, mate." Killian winked, hiding the grief within over the possibility he might never see his friend again.

David nodded half-heartedly. "Tell her about us. Tell her—" David released a choked sob, "—we love her and support whatever choice she makes."

Killin's mask slipped and a tear escaped. "Aye, mate. I can do that."

He'd find Emma—he couldn't let himself think otherwise. He chanted "I will find her" as a mantra multiple times a day, as a bleak life without her tried to suffocate the air from his lungs.

But he had no idea if they would be able to return to her family once he found her—the probability of creating another portal minimal.

He also didn't know if her family still lived, and if they did, exactly where. Two years ago, the war with the Wicked Witch and Ogres raged across the land—the situation dire, and if a new curse had come to pass… The Enchanted Forest might no longer exist.

He feared the possibility of restoring Emma's memories—having her remember her family—only to explain he lacked information of their fates.

She might hate him for it—essentially orphaning her, again.

Or you can help reunite her with those who love her, and everyone can have a happy ending. Never surrender hope.

Years spent with David and his wife, hanging with hero-types instead of villains, taught him a valuable lesson: there was always hope, if he remained stubborn enough to cling to it.

He chuckled, wondering, once she regained her memories, if Emma would think him an imposter, filled with belief of hope and happy endings instead of broken loneliness and revenge.

Or if she'd smile, seeing the mark she and her family left on him—making him theirs, as if he'd never fought on the other side.

The cold wind whipped around him, the chill trying to leech the excitement he could no longer contain with his quest near its end. He stood, too nervous to sit any longer, and paced beside the bench, the crowds upon the sidewalks instinctively knowing to avoid him and parting around him.

His eyes never left her building, scanning back and forth for any sign of her.

The man wore a suit, polished buttons fastened from chin to waist—obviously a guard of some sort. "May I help you, sir?

Killian bestowed the man with an apologetic grin, glad he'd prepared for this. "I hope so, mate. I just got into town and I'm trying to reach an old friend of mine, Emma Swan. Unfortunately my bags and phone were stolen and I can't reach her."

The man smiled. "I'd buzz her but she isn't in right now. If you want to leave a message with where you're staying, I'll make sure she receives it."

She lived here. He had found her.

Killian buried his excitement and wrote down his hotel and pseudonym—David Nolan—knowing he must continue the charade, and thanked the man for his time.

That was hours ago—around lunch time—and the day was already dimming as the tall buildings blocked the feeble sunlight trying to break through.

It would be more difficult to spot her in the dark. He'd have to move closer and hopefully not draw the attention of the suited man and raise suspicion.

Killian already drew a few extended looks, his leather outfit and earring not the normal mode of dress, but not so extreme in this odd city to warrant concern. A few parents herded their children away. A large group with boxes strapped around their necks aimed at him, the flash dilating his pupils. One young girl decked in black from head to foot, complete with leather collar, tossed him a wink.

Sure, he had clothes to blend in when needed, but had changed back to his pirate garb with the far-fetched wish it would help jog Emma's memory. He rehearsed his speech to her again, knowing words sounded crazy to those uninitiated with magic and portals.

What other options did he have?

True love's kiss—a longshot at best—David had warned him the results could be rather…painful when one party suffered from amnesia. His heart screamed to try it, his body chiming in how long it had been since their last and only kiss.

But if it failed, it would be more difficult to get her to listen, to trust him enough to take the potion.

The simplest option involved following her inside one of the many taverns lining the streets and dumping the potion into her food or drink.

He rebelled at the idea of giving it to her without her knowledge, even knowing it was the choice she'd make if she remembered, and he relegated it to a worst case scenario solution.

He returned to practicing his speech in his head, hoping the truth of his words would be enough to reach her.

A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb and his breath ceased as a blond emerged, complete with a hat and long wavy curls tumbling down her back, just visible over the top of the vehicle.

His heart pounded in his chest as he took a few steps toward her, waiting for her to turn so he could see her—

It was her. Emma. His Swan.

She bent forward, handing currency to the driver, the smile on her face a beacon to him, a shining star guiding him to the one thing he'd been missing these five years.

Home.

He squeezed the compass in his pocket, the one from their trip up the beanstalk so long ago, the final piece of the elaborate jigsaw puzzle he'd put together to find his way to her.

There's no place like home, love.

He hurried toward her, every carefully planned thought erased with his jubilation, only to be blocked by traffic.

Bloody hell!

He rushed to the crossing, impatient, waiting for the herd to move so he could hold her and ensure this wasn't another dream.

He had found her. At last.

The taxi sped away as he ran across the road. She turned to walk inside, setting down a shopping bag to adjust her grip.

Killian froze as he saw all of her for the first time: the curve of her arms, her strong legs, the body he'd dreamed of branding with his own.

The unmistakable rounded belly previously hidden by the taxi.

His love, his Swan, his happy ending, was very pregnant.

I'm too bloody late-his last thought as the blasting of horns erupted around him and the world went black.

Review?

Should I continue?