A/N: Thanks for being patient with this last chapter. I do hope you like it! I appreciate all the lovely reviews from the earlier bits and all the favorites and follows. Thank you so much for reading!

The next morning, Killian rose early and eased himself from Emma's warmth. They had spent the night entwined, Emma regaling him with her own story using fingers, lips, tongue, and body in a far better rendition than he'd managed. He knew, without question, hers was a more favorable telling than what lay within the pages of "his" book, as Emma continued to refer to it. If only he'd been a better author of his own story.

But as complicated as his feelings were about his past, Emma was right. Every bad choice and tragic moment made him who he was today. Lead him to her. To them. That he would not rewrite for anything—not even the demise of the Dark One at his own hand.

When Belle handed him the book the other day, he wasn't prepared to find out what some unknown author's interpretation was of his life, or of his deeds born from vengeance and a loneliness larger and deeper than any sea in any realm. And after seeing Milah's drawings, he wondered what other "surprises" lay in wait within the pages of the book. Today was a new day, thankfully. A day when Emma Swan considered him a good man and wanted him with her, regardless of his past, and that was something no book attesting to his wretched history would ever change.

He dressed, placed the book in his satchel, and headed down to Granny's to appropriate some breakfast to leave for Emma. It was the least he could do since he would not be there when she awoke. She was still sleeping soundly—hair a wild tangle across both their pillows and a light snore escaping parted lips—when he returned with hot coffee and a sweet. He left them both and a note, telling her where he could be found, then kissed her temple before slipping out the door, his satchel slung over his shoulder.

The early morning air was brisk, his breath visible with each long stride he took toward the docks, but the coffee cup in his hand was warm, a reminder that the cold did not have to be pervasive. He nodded amiably to the handful of people he encountered along the way, and they greeted him warmly in return. That was new.

The sun was creeping up from the horizon, its rosy glow shifting into something bright and clear the closer he got to his destination. He found a bench not far from where he used to moor the Jolly Roger, skimmed the light condensation of morning from its weathered, wooden slats, and sat looking out at the calm waters of the harbor.

Killian may not have been quite ready to share his book with Emma, but his story was just as much about the many seas he sailed upon as it was about him. Treacherous and unpredictable as those seas were, the fact remained that there was nothing in this or any other world Killian was more connected to. Not even Emma. Reading at the water's edge seemed only right.

"Might as well get on with it," he mumbled to himself.

Placing his coffee cup beside him on the bench, Killian removed the well-worn satchel from over his shoulder and slid the book out until it rested upon his lap. He ran his fingers over the soft brown leather of the cover—so much like Henry's book—and opened it. The end papers were dotted with stars arranged into constellations both familiar and unknown. He'd have to see if Belle had star charts for this realm he could borrow to compare them with the formations on these pages. Perhaps coming here had always been his fate.

He skipped over the first few pages until he reached the opening chapter, marked by an illustration of his boyhood home. The seaside town where he'd spent his early youth was the prize of the kingdom—its harbor bustling with merchant ships and Royal Navy vessels alike, as well as a booming fishing industry. There was never any question, even as a child, that he would live and die upon those waters, serving it and the kingdom in some way. It was expected of most of the men and lads who lived there, but for Killian, it was welcome, too. He was not one of those children who railed against the thought of following the path set before him. He was going to follow it wherever it lead, no matter how far from home. Or how far from his own time, it seemed.

The day warmed, even as his coffee chilled, while Killian read his story—or this version of it. Even with time and distance, the pain was no less sharp at the loss of his parents, Liam, Milah, and later Baelfire, due to his own battered ego. The writer was deft with his or her words, translating Killian's anguish with an accuracy that reopened wounds he'd thought long healed. He paused more than once to put the book aside and stare out at the ocean, collecting his thoughts and sorting his feelings.

After Milah's chapter, he felt the desire for vengeance against The Dark One rise like bile from a sour stomach once more, only to be tamped down a moment later when something in an illustration reminded him of Emma… a shade of green to match her eyes. He knew implicitly he could not fully love her and be consumed by hate at the same time, and it was that thought that kept him from losing himself in his rage anew.

"Bloody Crocodile," he bit out under his breath. It was a curse he'd uttered more times than he cared to count.

Still, he hoped to never see that scaly bastard in this or any other lifetime. He'd be damned if he was made an instrument of Rumplestiltskin's machinations ever again, that was for certain. But if his thoughts could turn to vengeance again so swiftly, the temptation to slide into darkness was still too near for Killian's liking. He feared what he might be pushed to do to protect Emma and their relationship if the Crocodile reappeared and continued to threaten Emma. With a hefty dose of luck, Killian may never have to worry about it. Yet the idea niggled in the back of his head. Rumplestiltskin was not one to just… cede his power. He'd always known that, but now everyone else did, too. Killian sighed and returned to his story, pushing his misgivings from his mind as he approached what he assumed would be his one of his favorite parts of the book.

Killian reached the chapter when he and Emma initially crossed paths, and over the next few pages, he finally recognized something he was too blind to see at the time. All his plans for a long overdue confrontation with The Dark One, most likely followed by his own imminent death, began crumbling to pieces in earnest the moment Emma Swan held a knife to his throat. He could see how desperately he'd clung to his revenge, even as it slipped away in favor of something he never expected: a chance at life. Perhaps even a happy one. He'd been so blind and untrusting at the time. That he'd ever turned himself around still felt a bit of a miracle to him.

Flipping the page, Killian was greeted with a cut out of the Jolly Roger and a light house popping up from the page.

"Would you look at that!?" he said to himself.

This was another shift in artwork in the book, and he was surprised by it. It was nothing like previous chapters—even the ones without Milah's drawings. The next page held a tab that when pulled, sent the Jolly Roger, and her tiny guests, into the open portal to Pan's realm in Neverland. He wondered if the new style had anything to do with the fact that the chapter he had just begun was that of the start of the trip to Neverland to save Henry. There was a childlike whimsy to it that masked the complex construction it took to engineer such a feature, just as Neverland was not simply full of children, nor Henry a typical child himself.

A hand rested on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. He looked up into Emma's smiling face as she leaned down to kiss him. He hadn't heard her coming. She peered over his shoulder at the book.

"Did I miss story time?" she asked, nodding at the open book.

"Hardly. Come sit, Swan." Killian scooted over to make room on the bench.

Emma sat next to him, wrapping her arms around his left, and propping her chin on his shoulder.

"You ok?"

Killian smiled at her and nodded. "Aye, love. I'm fine." He was now, anyway. He'd begun wishing she were with him several chapters ago.

"So your trip down memory lane hasn't been too traumatizing?"

Her concern was touching. He shrugged. "No more than expected, I suppose. Luckily not every waking moment of my life is in here. Otherwise it might have been a ten-volume set. There have been some pleasant surprises along the way, though. Look."

Killian turned back a page to show her the standing Jolly Roger.

Emma grinned and squeezed his arm. "I used to love pop up books as a child! When I was able to lay my hands on a whole one, that is. Most of the places I lived in either didn't have many books, or the ones they did have were pretty much destroyed." She pushed the ship flat only to have it return upright upon release.

"Hey, watch it now," Killian admonished. "You can't go around toying with a man's ship that way. You might break it."

Emma rolled her eyes and laughed. "Aye, aye, Captain. Didn't hear you complaining last night," she mumbled.

Killian tsked then kissed Emma's forehead. "You got here just in time, love. I've just reached the the part where you lie to me."

Emma looked confused. "Lie to you? When?"

"When you told me that our first kiss was, and I quote, 'a one time thing.'"

"I didn't lie. I just… underestimated."

"Umm hmmm," Killian nodded slowly, looking at her with a smug smile.

Emma smacked his arm. "Keep it up, buddy, and there won't be any more kisses to complain about."

"Not complaining about the kiss, Swan. It was… "

"Obviously something you couldn't handle. I bet even the book says it," Emma interrupted.

"Think so, do you?" Killian asked, his eyebrow raised.

Emma mirrored his raised eyebrow in return.

"Well, I don't need a book to tell me that, darling. But shall we check anyway?" he asked.

Nodding, Emma said, "I'd like that. Are you sure you are ready for me to read this?"

Killian slid the book onto Emma's lap, giving her control over his story.

"Turns out it's nothing you don't already know, love. I've always been an open book to you."

Killian parted ways with Emma at the Library. She was on her way back to her parents' loft to meet Henry after school, book in hand, and he promised to meet her there shortly. They'd spent some time perusing his storybook, him showing her some of the highlights—and lowlights—offering explanations where he thought she might need it, or answering her questions. Though she didn't have many yet. It felt good to share his story with her after all, and he felt a bit sheepish over his resistance in the first place.

He knew Belle would want to know he'd finally read the book, so he decided to stop in while he had the chance. Killian found her hunched over in her chair, a bluish glow illuminating her face as she stared into that magic box she insisted had as much information as any of the books in her library. He took her word for it, but didn't trust it all the same.

"Afternoon, Belle," he said, leaning on the circulation desk.

"Killian! Were we meeting today?" she asked, looking flustered. "I lose track of time when I get on this thing… " she explained as she got up out of her chair and came around the desk to face him.

"No, love, we weren't meeting. I just wanted to come by and thank you again for giving me that book."

Belle gave him a knowing smile. "You read it finally."

"Aye, I did."

"Well? Tell me what you thought!" she demanded, her excitement barely contained.

Killian half-smiled, shaking his head. "It was… not as bad as I thought it would be, and thankfully much shorter than it could have been."

"Really? That's it? Come on, Killian. What did you really think of it?"

Fidgeting with his rings while he thought, Killian tried to put into words what it meant to have a book such as this to share with others, with family and friends.

"I suppose I'm glad there is a record of my life that is not just fearful whispers in taverns and back alleys warning of a vengeful and ruthless pirate."

"It is an incredible story, Killian."

He looked into Belle's eyes, and said, "Aye, and I'm sorry for dragging you into it."

Belle nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry you felt like you had to. But you do see that your story is more than the horrible things you've done?"

Killian glanced away and said nothing.

With a sigh, Belle reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Killian, yours is not just some... swashbuckling high seas adventure or even a love story. It's a story of redemption. Granted it may still be in progress, but what you've done with your life is inspiring, not some cautionary tale."

Killian remained dubious. "It's not over yet. Who's to say what it will be?"

Belle laughed. "I've read more books than I can count. I think you can trust me when I remind you, yours is truly a hero's journey."

Killian gave his thanks in the form of a tight smile. He wanted to believe Belle. More than anything. But the mantle of "hero" was not something he was comfortable wearing—not since he set out with Liam all those lifetimes ago and failed. Emma had called him a hero, and he'd brushed it off in favor of atonement. He wasn't sure he'd ever see himself as anything other than a man standing on the edge of an unstable cliff, ready to fall to his death over some misstep or other.

But it was nice to know there were those who saw him as something more. He would do his best to live up to their belief in him, and maybe one day, he would believe, too.