Oh my gosh. Last night's episode was such an amazing episode with the Outlaw Queen and DOMESTIC CS, I'm dying.

Sorry for again, such a delay, but because of the lengths of the chapters, I've had to change to updates about every two weeks rather than every single week. However, as we move into more "flash back" heavy episodes, I'll be combining them for chapters.

This chapter is based on 1x02, "The Thing You Love Most."

I want to thank my two lovely friends/betas Montana-rosalie and naiariddle. I don't know how I could do it without them.

Find me on tumblr at ladyswaninsists.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz.

Nine

Impossibly Possible

In all their years, it felt like a foreign concept to be in the same room, listening to the sound of the others breathing. As usual, the guard fell asleep last, waiting for her breathing to steady.

It did, in time, though it wasn't the peace he once known all too well as her haven from the world. Gasps interrupted her breathing, with small cries that wrenched at Killian's heart, longing to wake her and hold her and promise her that everything was going to be alright.

And then he fell into a strange purgatory of his own, haunted by the strange demons that had always seemed to reside in the corners of his mind.

Though, this time, these beasts took recognizable forms, people that he had met in town that day, why the hell did he feel like he knew them. The lizard-like man (Crocodile his brain hissed), the landlord, ripping out a woman's heart. Sometimes she's nothing but a dark haired beauty that made his heart turn a bit (though he screams all the same).

But others—now, it's always a blonde girl, Emma, who falls into his arms in the end, his hand over the cavity in her chest and hook (yes a metal meat hook, how odd is that) in her hair.

The memory dream flickers again, changing to something even stranger, of an older lady with red lips holding a claw-like hand over him, of purple smoke. And there's always that pain, a thousand times worse than when his hand was cut off before like he was being shrunk, burning down to his hand, skin scorching…

Emma wakes him up, screaming, not holding him down as much as cradling him as he sobs, deep gasps and rivers of confused tears (and pain) running down his cheeks.

"It's ok…" She repeats over and over again in his ear, stroking the mop of wet hair and molding her body to fit his. Eventually he calms down, clutching at her hand, finding the strength to wrap his good arm around her.

"They're back." He whispers, pulling her down to lie beside him, the first time in years he could actually feel their relationship. Even the broken friendship of before, had never felt quite right in separate beds.

"I'm sorry. Killian." Her voice was equally as soft, years somehow leaving her lips, her dark green eyes cracking, to show the pale emerald the walls masked. "Is this the first time since…"

"Since" could be translated to many forms. Since they were little? No. Since she abandoned his bed? Since they had grown up?

"They never stopped." Killian admitted, his voice taking on the rough tone that had taken to represent his walls.

Hollow was the word to describe them both. Distantly was the adjective to call Emma, while longing was Killian's, a static sort of state they had found themselves in for years, though for some reason those words fell away in the bed, seeing each other for the first time…. In forever.

If it was the town or the child, neither would ever say, but something was decidedly different, almost like there was something else to the way Killian's eyes sparked, or how Emma didn't stiffen at his touch.

The nagging feeling at Killian's conscious came around eventually, those traces of guilt (and pride) forcing him to tell her.

"You don't have to worry you know…" He assured Emma, who lifted her head and right eyebrow in confusion, eyes murky with the shores of sleep. For a second, he hesitates, of course, she could be mad at him, and for once her walls were down but…

Fuck it.

"About him being…" He didn't say the "N" word. "I gave you the morning after thing, after you… you know."

Son of a bitch. Was the first thing that went through Emma's head as she looked at the man, who, for some weird reason looked like he was waiting to be kicked.

It never happened. Instead, her arms wrapped him even tighter clutching the man like a lifeline and bringing her lips to his cheeks with the implied words of "thank you."

"Emma…" He breathed, staring her down through inky black lashes. But, the moment was over, cued by her yawn as she rolled over, pressing her back into his stomach, forcing him to spoon her.

"We'll talk about it in the morning…. After sorting out the problem with our son."

*NJS*

"Did you know the honey crisp tree is the most vigorous and hardy of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as forty below and keep growing. It can weather any storm. I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl. And to this day, I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers." The mayor said, extending the apple toward Emma who squinted at the fake perky woman. Honestly who the hell was this put together at 7 am! Another skirt and jacket combo, this time in black, with the scarlet lipstick perfect smeared on her lips, and a basket of apples on her arm.

In comparison, the journalist was a mess, her blonde hair tangled, hanging over an oversized NYPD shirt. She had just rolled out of bed, though the said warm embraces was still otherwise occupied by a bleary eyed man staring her bare legs, the one who the shirt belonged to.

"Ummm… Thanks." Emma hesitated before taking the basket.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy them on your drive home." Her smile was poisonous and words dripping with venom as Killian came up behind Emma, his lean frame defines by a pair of blue plaid boxers and dark grey t-shirt.

"Actually," Killian challenged, moving his stance to occupy half of the doorway, boxing Emma out of the woman's reach. "I think we're gonna stay for awhile."

If it's possible, Regina looks like she wants to drive her hand through his chest. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues, he doesn't need you confusing him."

"All due respect, Madame Mayor, the fact that you have now threatened me twice in the last twelve hours makes me wanna stay more." Emma smirked.

Her innocence was the most overplayed thing Emma had ever seen in her lips, scoffing and running one gloved hand over her hair. "Since when were apples a threat?"

"I can read between the lines." The woman challenged, crossing her arms over her chest and unconsciously leaning into Killian's chest. "Sorry, I just wanna make sure Henry's okay."

"He's fine, dear." The woman sweetly said, the word "dear" stinging. However, instead of sounding like she was talking to a child, the Mayor sounded like one of those contrived Disney villains. "Any problems he has are being taken care of."

"What does that mean?" Killian asked.

"It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, only one of us knows what's best for Henry." The bitch off would be entertaining had the woman not looked mad, Killian thought fleetingly, fire burning in the Mayor's eyes as she spoke while the green ice of Emma's hardened, like a mint leaf being pressed into a glacier.

"Yeah…" Emma slowly smiled, the devious smirk bringing out the dimples in her cheeks "I'm starting to think you're right about that."

"It's time for you both to go." Regina threatened, her eyes looking over Killian's with a sort of suspicion and … fear? He wrote it off quickly grabbing Emma's arm, a protective gesture that only earned him a glare.

"Or what?" Emma bit back and the woman stepped forward, eluding a sort of evilness that was to the point of being cheesy, had Killian not had the urge to punch her.

"Don't underestimate me, Miss Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of." She said before walking off, missing the other woman's threat, whispered now only loud enough for Killian to hear, with a hint of a laugh in her wicked smile.

"Read my bio, bitch."

*NJS*

The mayor knelt down to pick up an apple, red, like the color of her lips as the man walked up behind her practically waving a paper.

"The Mirror strikes again." He said with a self-satisfied smile, eagerly waiting for the woman's approval.

"You're late." Was all she coldly responded.

"Sorry, I wanted to bring you the latest edition. I assure you, it's one of my better hatchet jobs." He presented the thin paper to the woman who snatched it, glanced at the cover and frowned.

"That's not what I asked for. What'd you find out about them?"

"Well, the truth be told, there wasn't much. They spent a lot of time in foster homes, were in and out of a convent. They both got into a little trouble when she was a kid, but the details are locked up pretty tight. Since then, they've be clean. He's a detective at the NYPD, Captain from how they talk about him. Specialty in solving 'the weird ones' according to his superiors. Murders, terrorism, the like." And then he looked nervous. "She… well, she's an excellent writer, graduated from Columbia six years ago. Mainly in political writing. Her…. insight" He chose the next word carefully, "into the Presidential race is one of the most followed stories. She travels a fair bit, only big cities though."

"That appears to have changed." The woman hardened, her mouth a thin red line.

"I-I didn't know that, um, she had Henry while she was in Phoenix? How'd he wind up here in Maine?" He spluttered, grasping at straws, a completely irrelevant topic that quickened the blood in Regina's veins with rage.

"So if I'm understanding you correctly, you've found nothing of value. Which means you have no value, Sidney. Do you know what I do with things that hold no value to me?" She cocked her head to the side moving closer and hissing the next words in his ear "I throw them away."

He then walked away, towards the diner, muttering some excuse of "keeping looking" while the mayor looked on, lethally.

*NJS*

Emma's hands flew across the keyboard and Killian squinted at the Boston Globe, his phone next to him with a half typed email. Her feet beat against the tile as she worked only to be halted in her work and the waitress, Ruby as her nametag implied slid a mug in front of her.

"Here you go." She said with a wolfish smile, as the writer looked up, startled before noticing the contents of the mug.

"Thank you..." Emma replied, her mouth watering at the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. "But I did not order that."

"I know." Ruby answered with a hint of a smirk at Killian as he set down the paper purposefully. "You have an admirer."

Both of them turned around so fast, that Killian's neck cracked and a stray curl got stuck in Emma's mouth.

The Sheriff was awkwardly seated in a booth, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, failing of course. Killian's the first out of his seat, the stool spinning as he all but stalks over to the man

"Ah, so you decided to stay." He said, setting down his own paper, The Storybrooke Mirror, and taking one look at the jealously seething man, while the blonde sipped her hot chocolate, taking her sweet time to make her way over to his booth.

"Observant. Important for a cop." Killian glared, wanting to whip out his badge just to emphasize his point.

"Takes one to know one. Though I don't remember ordering the hot chocolate for the detective." His chocolate brown orbs found Emma, as she set the coco down on the table and slid it over in front of him.

"Look, the coco was a nice gesture, and I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon in my chocolate, 'cause most people don't," Killian muttered something about how he liked cinnamon but she ignored him "But I am not here to flirt, so, thank you, but no thank you."

"I didn't send it." Graham defended himself, thoroughly taken aback at the blonde's speech and Killian's jealous blue stare.

In another booth, a kid had been sitting the whole time, quietly watching the exchange, feeling just the slightest bit ignored, since he had been there the whole time. "I did. I like cinnamon, too." Henry piped, shouldering a cumbersome backpack as he got up from the lonesome booth.

"Don't you have school?" Emma asked, the coco forgotten as the little boy walked over to them, Killian's eyes following his every move with a new sort of reverence, while the mother tried her very best not to look pleased at the boy's efforts.

"Duh, I'm ten. Walk me." He asked, the man and woman following him closely out the door, her computer and his phone forgotten on the counter, their cursors still blinking in mid word.

"So, what's the deal with you and your mom?" Emma broke the ice, looking at Killian for a second, whose face still screamed murder from the earlier incident with the Sheriff.

"It's not about us, it's about her curse. We have to break it. Luckily, I have a plan." Killian smirked, almost hearing his younger self saying the words, like the time they thought they could have a picnic on the Brooklyn Bridge. However, this kid had an odd sort of… truth, to his tall tale of curses. One that he couldn't tell Emma he felt, but maybe the lad would understand… "Step one: identification. I call it, "Operation Cobra"."

"Cobra? That has nothing to do with fairytales." Emma sourly remarked.

"Exactly, it's a codename. It'll throw the Queen off the trail." He excitedly said, as though it were obvious.

"So, everyone here is fairytale character, they just don't know it." Killian commented quietly, again that nagging feeling tugging at his mind.

"That's the cure. Time's been frozen... Until you got here." His eyes were the picture of belief, making Emma want to do anything but look at him instead, searching her pocket for an apple from earlier and pulling it out, mouth poised to take a bite. Henry's eyes grow wide. "Hey! Where'd you get that?"

"Your mom." Killian answered with a raised eyebrow as the boy grew alarmed, batting the apple out of Emma's hand.

"Don't eat that!" Emma frowns even harder, the crinkle between her eyebrows deepening.

"Okay... Um, uh, alright." She said, Killian interrupting with a question of his own, the feeling in his chest intensifying.

"What about their pasts?"

"They don't know." Henry looked at Killian as he answered, sapphire on cerulean, like the child knew what he was feeling, staring straight into his soul. "It's a haze to them. Ask anyone anything and you'll see."

"So... for decades, people have been walking around, in a haze, not aging, with screwed up memories, stuck in a cursed town that kept them oblivious." Emma incredulously reasoned, for a brief instant thinking that she should write an opinion column on small town America and this analogy. Damn that could be good maybe even get her a damn raise…

"I knew you'd get it!" Henry smiled, his whole face filling with light as he looked up at Killian, before turning to Emma. "That's why we need you, you're the only one who can stop her Curse."

Emma looked more lost by the minute. "Because I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?"

"Yes! And right now, we have the advantage. My mom doesn't know that." He slung his backpack around and unzipped the top pulling out a collection of pages. "I took out the end, the part with you in it." He handed them to Emma before digging around in the bag again.

The page contained an illustration of a regal looking man placing a child, wrapping in a blanket with a stitched "Emma" on it, into a mahogany wardrobe.

"See? Your mom is Snow White!" Henry exclaimed excitedly, before pulling out a second set of page and thrusting them into Killian's hands, with a word.

"Kid…" Emma started though he cut her off as Killian began to stare at the pages, his head hurting as he stared blankly at the first crumpled page.

Slowly, he unfolded it, seeing the first image, of a man caught up in a purple fog, his arms raised to protect his face, one hand and a prosthetic silver hook in the other. The next was similar to Emma's with the wrapping, his of black leather, a stitched name on the sleeve in jagged fast tugs of a navy string. The resemblance stopped there, as the child, the black haired baby was by the looks of it screeching, in the arms of a positively wicked woman, who bore no small resemblance to the Mayor, tossing him into a greater cloud, over an ocean.

He knew it and didn't recognize it at all, staring blankly at it while Henry started to speak again.

"I know the hero never believes at first, if they did, it wouldn't be a very good story. If you need proof, take them, read them." He looked back at the school, taking a glance at a rambunctious playground. "But whatever you do, don't let her see these pages. They're dangerous. If she finds out who you are... then it would be bad. I think she already knows about Killian."

"What about me?" Killian asked, a lump in his throat appearing with a sinking in his stomach. Henry took another glance at the schoolyard.

"I gotta go, but I'll find you later and we can get started. I knew you'd believe me!" He yelled, running off.

"I never said I did!" She yelled after him, her eyes looking defeated, lost, hopeful, and broken all at once as Killian stood beside her, still at a loss for words.

Henry grinned. "Why else would you be here?" Then he disappeared into the sea of backpacks, jackets, and metal playground equipment, as Emma crossed her arms not noticing the boy's teacher creeping up on them, a small, proud smile playing on her lips.

"It's good to see his smile back." Emma and Killian turned in a fluid motion, frowning.

"I didn't do anything." Emma hesitated.

"You stayed." She gave them a mischievous look. "So.. does the Mayor know you're still here?"

"Oh, she knows." Killian laughs.

"What is her deal? She's not a great people person, how did she get elected?" Emma inquired, slipping her hand into her back pocket and tapping her phone. She gave a small smile as the red blinking light came up.

"She's been Mayor as long as I can remember. No one's ever been brave enough to run against her. She inspires quite a bit of.. well, fear." The woman, Mary Margaret Emma recalled, bit her lip and cast a quick look at the playground, ensuring no one was listening. "I'm afraid I only made that worse by giving Henry that book and now he thinks she's the Evil Queen."

"Who does he think you are?" Killian asked the teacher.

Mary Margaret scoffed. "It's silly.."

Emma's laugh was a musical sound, her face transforming from the hard mask she always wore. "We've just got five minutes of silly. Lay it on me."

"Snow White." Emma looks slightly stunned, as the hard sound of the school bell rang, but the woman just smiled at her. God she couldn't be… No, nope. Impossible. "Who does he think you are?"

Emma doesn't answer. Killian doesn't, frowning again at the pages in his hands, again at the silver weapon that replaced his current prosthetic.

"Captain Hook." He answers, and the woman gives him a sly, close-lipped smile, taking a quick peek at his missing appendage. As she begins to walk off, Emma calls after her.

"Can I ask you a favor? Regina mentioned the kid's in therapy; do you know where I can find the doctor?"

*NJS*

"Are you sure this is a good idea Swan?" Killian asked, her for the… fourth? It had to be, time, as she boldly knocked on the glass office door, clearly reading "Dr. Archie Hopper. Psychiatrist."

She gives him that infuriating smile, like too late, as she pushes open the door and again taps the phone, the red icon appearing on the screen.

"Hey." She squeaks, sounding as shy as possible as Killian rolls his eyes

The shrink looks up from his work and starts at the pair.

"Emma Swan." He starts and stands, reaching over to pick up a thin newspaper. "And Killian Jones. I was just, uh, reading about you. Let me guess, you're here for help with a little post-traumatic stress?" He chuckles as Killian face drops, gesturing to his fake hand with the paper before setting it down. "That diagnosis was free, by the way."

The shrink just notices the man's face, the levels of pain on it evident, maybe he did need the counseling he had never actually been to anyone about his childhood, about the accident.

Emma covers for his with an awkward, fake laugh "No, I'm here about Henry."

"I'm sorry, I-I I really shouldn't..." He looks to the side, shuffling his feet nervously, and playing with the horn-rimmed glasses.

"I know, I'm sorry. I only want to know." She looked a bit lost at this, biting her lower lip.

"It's fine, Miss Swan." The pysch said, looking at the awkward man standing next to her, giving him a suspicious look, spying the bead of sweat on his forehead.

"I just... just tell me something. This fairytale obsession, what is causing it? I mean, he thinks everyone is a character in his book." Killian inquired, the image of the terrifying looking man, with the hook for a hand and vengeance in his blue eyes.

"These stories- they're his language. He has no idea how to express complex emotions so he's translating as best he can, this is how he communicates. He's using this book to help deal with his problems."

Emma's green eyes narrowed. "But he got the book a month ago. Has he been seeing you longer than that?"

"Um-Yes, he has." The doctor answered, looking slightly confused.

"So who's causing these 'problems,' Dr. Hopper? Bullies?" The man was screwed and he knew it. Expecting an accusation, at least Emma had been careful enough to avoid it.

"Uh- his mother, Regina, is a... very complicated woman, and uh- over the years, her attempts to try and bring Henry closer have only backfired." He moves towards his file cabinet and opens it, removing one and tossing it on the table, with an almost challenging gesture. "Why don't you take a look at the file. Um... see what I mean."

Before Emma could grab it, Killian interrupts, noticing the eager look in the shrink's eyes and snatching her outstretched hand in his own and giving it a slight squeeze and smirking at the man's obvious disappointment.

"Well, he talks about you a lot. You're.. very important to him." He tells the truth, with the nerves of a lie or half-truth clouding his expression

Emma smiles softly, just noticing she still was holding Killian's hand and whispering a "Thank you."

They start to head out, the woman patting down her pants pockets, the man holding the door open for her with his prosthetic when the timid man speaks up.

"Miss Swan, Mr Jones. Just for the sake of the boy, be careful how you handle his... belief system. To destroy his imagination would be.. would be devastating." The couple leaves in a hurry the moment they're outside the door the woman whips out her phone.

A look of dread on his face, he punches in numbers on the phone waiting to hear the sharp tones of the Mayor.

"Did they take it?" She barked and he took a deep breath.

"No but, H-how did you know she was gonna come here?" He stuttered, hearing a whole ten seconds of radio silence on the other end of the line.

"I gave her the idea. And get some worth, Hopper." Regina spat before slamming down the receiver.

*NJS*

Emma lay on her stomach on the bed, her fingers attacking the keys of her laptop, the phone lying next to her endless replaying a string of words, setting her teeth on edge.

Her fellow partner in crime talked quietly on his own cell phone, pulling out some favors with old friends he had told Emma, as he caught up with Jon, his email pinging every couple of seconds as new permissions and files came through to the detective.

The knocking on the door hadn't ceased for a total of thirty seconds (yes, she counted) as she rolled off the bed and reluctantly pulled open the door, to reveal the surprisingly attractive Sheriff in the hallway.

"Hey there... if you're concerned about the "Do Not Disturb" signs, don't worry; I've left them alone." She said, as Killian got off of the phone in a considerable hurry, coming to the door with his dark, protective look.

"Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?" Graham questioned and Emma looked surprised.

"No! I was just interviewing him." She said, Killian's glare going from dark to murderous.

"I'm shocked, too, given your shy, delicate sensibilities. He says you pressured him for information and stole Henry's files." The man gave her a hard look and she gave him a smirk.

"We don't have the files." She told him. "The case is about something else entirely."

"Alas, he's telling a different tale." He already stepping inside, as much as Killian glanced around the room, looking for his gun. "May I check your room? Or must I get a search warrant?"

He barges into the room without ceremony, taking in the two open laptops, a notebook and a phone still playing a recording.

"Find what you're looking for, Sherrif?" Killian drawled, his smirk audiable as the other Irishman looked back at him, surprised.

"I'm afraid, I'll still need you both to come down to the station. Do you have any proof against the attack on the doctor?" He asked and Emma smiled, holding up the phone.

"Oh, I can guarantee it."

*NJS*

The tapes couldn't be faked. Even under the confusion of the Sherriff when it came to technology, they hadn't done anything "wrong" per se. Still, the call had been made and now the murk of the law didn't cover street smart reporters or smirking detectives.

"So why would a shrink lie?" Killian asked, his shit eating grin dominating his feature, as he debated putting his boots up on the desk. Emma taps at the phone, cuffs jangling on her wrists, replaying one specific phrase from one of the conversations.

"She inspires quite a bit of.. well, fear." The tinny voice repeated and the Sheriff looked utterly defeated in that moment.

"From what I've concluded: The Mayor put him up to this.." Killian rummaged in his pockets for a second before producing his phone, tapping in a passcode. "She's gotta have something on him. He's terrified of her, like everyone else in this—–town."

"Regina may be a touch intimidating, but I don't think she'd go as far as a frame-job." Graham insisted.

"How far would she go?" Emma pushed. "I've covered politics for the past six year, Sheriff. I know how this works. What does she have her hands in?"

He shifted his stance, eyes dropping to the floor. "Well, she's the Mayor. She has her hands in everything."

"I guess that includes the police force?" Killian's eyes bored into the man, Emma practically seeing the analysis of the hard blues even as the prey tried to speak, he was trapped.

Thankfully he was saved, by a kid, followed a bit further away by a woman who clearly did not know her best way around a gym.

"HEY!" Henry yelled, skidding to a stop in front of the interrogators and the Sheriff.

Graham looks at the boy like he's Christ reincarnate before realizing the Mayor was probably going to kill him for being here in the first place. "Henry! What are you doing here?"

His teacher, Mary Margaret, gave Graham a cold look. "His mother told him what happened."

"Of course she did!" Emma practically yelled, exasperated, while Killian looked at his son the boy, walking over to him and bending down, to rest on his knees.

From his time working the Park shifts, he had learned a thing or two about children. They always seemed to be less intimidated when you were looking directly into their eyes.

"Henry, I don't know what she said—" He began, but stopped, something in the boy's eyes wasn't what he expected, the hurt, pain it wasn't there…

"You're a genius!" Henry exclaimed, a grin splitting his face.

"What?" Emma wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"I know what you were up to." Emma glances, confused at Killian, who merely shrugs. "You were gathering intel." And then he basically dropped his voice to a whisper "For "Operation Cobra"."

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit lost.." Graham began, looking at Killian who was back to tapping away on his phone, this time, the insignia for the Federal Bureau of Investigation boldly displayed on the screen.

"Sheriff, All you need to know is that Miss Blanchard's gonna confirm her testimony and get Emma and Killian out." Henry said with a charming crooked smile that struck a striking resemblance to Killian, making Emma feel as though she had been punched in the stomach. Twice.

"You are?" Emma stammered. "Why?"

"I-uh—trust you." The teacher hesitated, but gave the journalist a warm, inviting smile.

"Well." Emma gave the Sheriff a dirty smile. "If you could uncuff me...I have something to do."

*NJS*

Where she had found a chainsaw, Killian could never say. The rage on the other hand, he was well acquainted with. She wordlessly handed him her jacket and blouse, like he was her bloody page or something, stripping down to her pair of heeled boots, jeans, and a sinfully sheer white tank top that made all the blood rush from his head to other appendages.

The look on the Mayor's face was reward enough, as she watched Emma start to cut off a branch of her precious apple tree, through her office window, mouth a perfect circular "o."

"What the hell are you doing!?" Regina yelled, stopping out onto the green without a care that her heels were getting stuck in the grass.

"Picking apples." Emma said with sarcastic smile and dropping the humming saw at her feet.

"You're out of you mind!" The mayor screeched, as Emma crossed her arms over her bust.

Emma smiled, devout of any of the light it usually had, her face looking positively malevolent.

"No, you are if you think a shotty frame job's enough to scare me off. You're gonna have to do better than that. I've done better my first year out of college." Emma gave the woman a cold look. "If you come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I am capable of."

As she begins to walk away back towards Killian, he relishes in her expression, before having a clever idea of his own.

"Your move." He yells across the yard to the stricken woman, while wrapping Emma's jacket around her shoulder and giving her a tender smile.

*NJS*

If the most humiliating thing to ever happen to them wasn't getting caught fucking by a priest, getting thrown out of a Bed and Breakfast had to top the list.

And finding the black SUV with a boot on it.

The woman's phone trills an aria and she glares at it, snatching it out of her purse and slapping it open.

"Swan." She snarls into the mic, while a cool, quite bitchy voice oozes out the other end, as Killian glanced at her, alternating between kicking the tire of his car, and treating anyone in the near vicinity to the more colorful sides of Irish swears.

"Ms. Swan, I'd be happy to continue demonstrating my power, but in my writing I'm guessing your resolve to stay is only growing?" The mayor sneered as Emma fumbled with the phone, ensuring that it was indeed recording. Thank the lord something today went right.

"You have no idea." Emma growled.

"Well then." The woman laughed lightly and Emma opened the passenger door, throwing her bag into it. "I think it's time we made peace. Why don't you drive over to my office." Killian slammed the back door and Emma followed suit, making a rage filled statement. "Or walk—whatever suits you."

Pounding the end call button, Emma stalked off, Killian following not too far behind, pocketing his phone in the back of his jeans.

Again, the reporter and the detective sat in the Mayor's office, with Regina leaning against in a predatory stance, a false red smile on her lips.

"I'd like to start by apologizing." She began and Emma's eyes narrowed, as Killian vainly tried to conceal his surprise.

"What?" He exclaimed, and Emma sent him a "shut up" look.

Regina sighed, dramatically, like they were stupid. "I just have to accept the reality that you want to be here."

"We do." Emma muttered, like a vow, casting Killian a look that screamed "doe eyes," forcing Regina to roll hers. Clearly this was not working out as planned.

"..And that you're here to take my son from me." The fierce expression on her face could be read as pain by some. But, to the trained eye, it was calculated pity.

"Okay, let's be clear:" Emma narrowed her eyes as Killian finally spoke up. "Neither I nor Emma have no intention of taking him from anyone."

"Well then, what hell are you doing here?" Emma had decided in two days, the woman was a witch. Minus the w, add a capital B to the beginning to get the other word that floated to her mind as the small town mayor played petty politics.

"I know I'm not a mother—I think that's pretty self-evident—but I did have him, and I can't help it—he got in my head and I want to make sure he's okay." Emma stared at Killian as he rubbed a hand against his scruffy beard, eyes downcast in a desperate attempt to avoid meeting her eyes, reminding her that he wasn't even been there to see the boy as a babe, only finding out after the face and finally laying eyes on his miniature ten years later. Guilt piled up in his throat as Emma pressed on. "The more you try to push us out, the more we want to be here, especially after seeing how.. troubled.. he is."

"You think he's troubled?" Regina baits, the sly smile never leaving her lips.

"Well, he's in therapy, and what we heard from the shrink something's going on, causing him to think everyone in this town is a fairytale character." Killian interjected. "I've learned in my experience, Miss Mills, that there is no fantastical or supernatural cause to anything." It felt like a lie on his lips, though he couldn't exactly be lying about cold hard fact. They had never failed them before. "It's just a metaphor to the true villain in reality."

Regina Mills, who just a moment earlier had been imposing, was visibly shaken at his words, giving him a hard glance like she was mistaken about something.

"And you don't?" She challenged again, a weak hit.

"Do what? Believe him? I work with cold hard facts." Emma snapped. "I'm sorry if I'm a little skeptical. I wouldn't go as far to call him crazy, but…"

At that precise moment, the door opened, only the last part of her sentence falling on the ears of a kid, who stood in the doorway for half a second before his face—and heart broke.

"You think I'm crazy?" He whispered, his blue eyes misting over with the hints of tears, even as Killian stood up, whispering his name, he runs off, the man in hot pursuit, while Emma rose to her feet, green murder in her glare as she looked at the smug Regina.

"You knew he would be here." She boldly accused.

Regina gasped in mock surprise. "Did I know that my son comes to my office every Thursday at precisely five P.M. so I can take him for dinner before his therapy session? Of course I did. I'm his mother." And then the evil smile returns. "Your move."

Emma felt the emotions creep up on her, the constriction in her chest going ever tighter as she stared at the woman, feeling unbearable hatred for the first time in her life, and true vengeance.

"You have no soul. How in the hell did you get like this?" When the woman gave her no reply, she stomped out of the office, and out of the street.

*NJS*

Neither Killian nor Henry were anywhere in sight much to dismay, though she made her way down the street, eventually finding the apartment building that matched the address Henry's teacher had pressed into her hand earlier.

She hesitates before knocking on the door, feeling as though she was supposed to be here, that for once she was doing the absolutely right thing.

The school teacher answered the door a half a second later, needlework clutched in her right hand.

"Hey." Emma whispers a greeting as Mary Margaret opens the door fully. "I just wanted to say thank you and, um, here." The blonde awkwardly handed the woman a pack of money, a small token of her gratitude (and part of her contacts fund, damn this "real" America article was going to be good) and gave an exasperated sort of sigh, eliciting a kind motherly smile from the woman.

"You look like you need to talk." She smiled at Emma, leading her into the charmingly quaint apartment and sitting down on a barstool as the woman busied herself in the kitchen, pulling out various containers, humming to herself. A regular Snow White.

The mug pulled Emma out of her mental searching, for Killian, for Henry, the smell of chocolate and something else tickling her nose as she hesitantly took the first sip.

"Cinnamon?" She asked, taking another, deeper sip and smiling—her first real once since last night.

Mary Margaret set a plate of cookies on the table, before taking a seat with her own mug. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked. It's a little quirk of mine. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." And then the teacher did the mom thing, once you tell someone you like something, they offer you another thing, this time a cookie. "No, thanks. When you came down to the station, you said.. that you trusted me." The woman nodded, solemnly taking a bite of a cookie. "Why?"

"It's strange—ever since you and your…. friend arrived here, I've had the oddest feeling, like we've met before. I mean, I know it's crazy." Her laugh was a bit light hers, the bell sound, while Emma's is the final tolling at midnight, Mary Margaret's is the breeze of chimes at 4 PM.

"I'm starting to reevaluate my definition of crazy." Emma joked, her look suddenly morose as she regretted the word.

Mary Margaret reached for her hand, sending it scurrying away from her, earning a disappointed look and then a small smile. "For what it's worth, I think you're innocent."

Emma snorted.

"Of breaking and entering, or just in general?"

"Whichever makes you feel better." The teacher giggled.

Emma sighed, forlorn, her mind set, to hell with what Killian thought.

"Doesn't really matter what anyone thinks I did or didn't do. I'm leaving. Thank you for everything, but I think it's for the best. If we stay, Henry's only gonna keep getting hurt." She stood up, heading towards the door, fighting the tears and the cracks in her heart that she knew were only the beginning, god Killian was going to kill her.

And then that perky, strangely familiar voice stopped her.

"What happens if you and Killian go?" Emma purses her lips, though the rest of her body is frozen. "I think the very fact that you want to leave is why you both have to stay. You care about him. Who will protect Henry if you won't?"

"His father." Emma whispered, as she ran off to find her boys. She didn't quite catch the woman's shout out the door, but somehow the offer of a place to stay was saved in her brain.

*NJS*

Killian's voice was quiet as he sat next to the boy, finding him eventually on his castle, an abandoned wooden playground on the beach, sniffling.

"You know, whenever I was upset, I'd find the ocean too." He started as awkwardly as possible, plopping down next to him, and nearly slipping the prosthetic providing a poor grip on the rough wood. "Then again New York Harbor isn't much of an ocean. It's always been more water for me."

Henry's still silent as Killian reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the slightly crumpled set of pages and stared at them, comparing the silver hook into the photo to the sleek gloved prosthetic that took his place.

"Is that why you think I'm… Captain Hook?"

"Why should I?" Henry spoke up, snatching the pages from him, a bitter tone that was much too old for him (but just right for Killian at that age). "I'm crazy aren't I?"

"No you're not…" Killian muttered, unintentionally. "Listen, Henry, about Emma."

"I don't want to talk about it." He snapped, peering curiously at Killian after his earlier comment, the faint sparkles of hope lighting up his eyes.

"Just hear me out." Killian begged, only slightly, looking down at the boy's bent head, a mess of snarls and tangles in the raven mop. "Your mother doesn't know how to deal with this... She's a journalist. Only wants to believe what she can see never follows her insists, if she did of course.

"But you believe me don't you?" He studied Killian's face before his own broke out into a smile, though the detective swore his betrayed nothing. "I knew YOU would. Do you remember?"

Killian sighed thinking of his sleep's demons for as long as he could remember. And the story... He just felt like he knew. Impossible but his entrails were telling him otherwise.

"You really do want your father to be Captain Hook, lad?" He wearily questioned.

"It's just a name." Henry reasoned, a small smile on his lips (so much like Emma's.) "Like my last name, right? They don't really mean much in the end.. Plus, you're not into waxed perms and mustaches, are way cooler than Disneys version... And a detective in this world! Though I still don't get how you lost your hand... Again."

Henry paused, looked up at the man with identical blue eyes.

"Sorry." He whispered, the moon's light catching each of his features in shocking clarity as he looked up at the older, harder man. "I didn't think of having a dad I guess. Always the Savior, my mother." He laughed a bitter sort of laugh, with none of the bells or whistles of Emma's, all Killian's bark.

"But I want Killian Jones to be my father. Not Captain Hook. I've never had one before so I don't what you're exactly supposed to do but I mean you're the only person who believes me AND remembers..." Henry was a treasure trove of words, Emma's son in that aspect, Killian had come to find, making wanted to cry, to run.

Trying to cut the boy off, he was suddenly stopped by the warm body clutching his, his own arms tentatively coming around him.

"We'll find a way, lad." He whispered into his hair, inhaling the smells of the sea, of little boy, and flowers…

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Emma said with a dry smile, a lone figure to the black of the night, her hair silverly gold.

Henry pulled out of the hug and set a weak scowl on his face towards Emma.

"Henry, I'm sorry." She said, getting down onto her knees to maintain eye contact with him. He doesn't move, frozen, his arms crossed. So she continues, looking at Killian once for assurance. "Henry, there is one simple reason I stayed here—you. I wanted to get to know you."

"You think I'm crazy!" He cried, the argument much weaker than before, when he had shouted it at Killian. "And he doesn't!"

Emma sent Killian a shocked expression, then a grateful smile.

"No, I think the Curse is crazy. And it is." She sighs wearily. "But that doesn't mean that it isn't true. It is a lot to ask anyone to believe in, but there are a lot of crazy things in this world. So, what do I know? Maybe it is true."

Belief was one of the strongest things she had learned. They had learned. Killian found people would kill because they believed one thing. Emma figured that American society believed in the wrong people.

Henry wrinkled his brow, confused. "But you told my mom—"

"-What she needed to hear." Emma finished the sentence.

"But, what we do know... is that if the Curse is real, the only way to break it is by tricking the Evil Queen... into thinking that we are nonbelievers. 'Cause, that way, she's not on to us. Is that what Operation Cobra was all about? Throwing her off the trail?" Killian reasoned.

"Brilliant, detective!" Henry exclaimed excitedly, Emma and Killian stealing a look between each other.

"I read the pages, I'm sure Killian has as well." Emma said, taking out her own set. "And Henry, you're right—they are dangerous."

Emma then gives Killian a look, like do something, a desperate cry for help.

Reluctantly he pulls out his lighter.

"There is only one way to make sure that she never sees them." Dropping the pages onto the beach's shores, he took Emma's stack from her hands lighting the first one, before dropping it into the entire stack, watching baby blankets, heroes, witches, queens, princes, and one silver hook go up in flames.

"Now we have the advantage." Emma affirmed.

Henry's hugs were always surprising, rather like a baby bull trying to rush you.

Emma gasp has his arm squeezed around her midsection, while the other reached out for Killian, awkwardly drawing him into the small circle.

"I knew you were here to help me!" He whispers into her blouse, and Emma smiles, really and truly running a hand through the boy's hair as he breaks the embrace.

"That's right, kid. we are." The pair of identical blue eyes staring back at her were a welcome, terrifying sight. But, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Killian placed his only hand on Henry's shoulder, a gesture she had only seen a couple of times from Father Matthew or Lestrade to Killian. Fatherly was the word she had been desperately searching for to describe his expression as looked at his son, kneeling down to be even with him and her.

"And nothing, not even a curse, is gonna stop that." Killian genuinely smiled, for the first time in ten years.

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