Pausing outside the diner, Killian felt his shoes quickly adhere themselves to the sidewalk. He narrowed his stare at the blinds slightly covering the window offering a view inside. He'd promised Killian he'd be there at nine sharp - and dammit, he was. Part of him wished the man hadn't showed. Part of him wanted to turn around and head back up the street while trying to forget that this meeting had ever been scheduled. He was mentally running through the reasons why he wasn't in the process of erasing his steps on the concrete when he felt a firm, small hand grab his. Ah, yes - that was why he was here.

His own son was the reason he'd agreed to face his own father - ironic as that was.

"Is he here yet, papa?"

Liam was clutching his hand tight as he stretched on his toes, trying to get a glimpse through the glass that was still a bit too high. Killian sighed heavily, looking down at his son with furrowed eyebrows and a careful nod.

He allowed his mind to drift back to the conversation they'd had in the front yard not long ago. Well, it was more of an argument on Killian's part. It had been unexpected and unwanted in so many ways, feelings that caused him to act a bit impulsively. He felt his blood grow hot at the memory.

"You shouldn't be here."

He'd stormed outside and down the steps to the fence the moment he saw him approaching. Part of him was furious that he'd think he could intrude on this life Killian had rebuilt - the one filled with Emma and Liam and this constant happiness. Another part of him was devastated that after all these years, anger was the only emotion he had toward the only family member he had left.

"I know," his father admitted, swallowing hard as he stood at the gate. "But I just want to talk."

"I'm sure you do," Killian shot back, his stance firm and his arms crossed over his chest. "But why in the bloody hell would you think I want to listen?"

His father shuffled his feet, scratching behind his ear anxiously. Of course this man had passed along his nervous tick to him - Killian had passed it onto his own little Liam as well. Thunder filled his father's gaze, a storm of apologies simmering under a tortured expression. His mouth opened as his voice eluded him, a frustrated gasp the only sound wearing on the tension between them.

"Killian, I just-"

"You know what? No. Stop."

"Son…."

"Don't you dare try that with me," Killian growled, gritting his teeth. "I am not your son. I'm not your anything. You have no business being here so leave. That's what you're good at, right?"

"Killian, please-"

"No! You left us! You didn't care about me or Liam or anything and there's nothing you can say-"

"I did it for you - for both of you," his father replied, his own voice rising desperately. "I had to leave in order to save you and your brother…."

Killian froze, his eyes wide and his breath hitching hard in his throat at the explanation. He watched his father fight the emotion in the air, his composure crumbling as he ran his hands over his face. As much as he wanted the man to hurt and suffer the way he had as a young orphaned boy, he felt his heart crack at this sight of this person who still clearly loved him feeling so lost.

But it wasn't enough. Not even close.

"You didn't save us," he deadpanned, his tone defensive. "You destroyed us."

He glared at the man who abandoned him long ago before he turned on his heel and headed back inside. Slamming the door and jamming the lock down, he slumped against the door. Emma peeked around the corner from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway with sympathetic eyes. He shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the floor. Turnabout was fair play - so why did it hurt so damn much?

"Papa?"

Liam's voice broke in, causing him to jump and straighten his posture quickly. He cleared his throat and dug deep for some semblance of a smile as he watched the boy plod down the staircase. Liam rubbed his eyes, his hair sticking up in several directions as his little red socked feet landed on the bottom step.

"Hey buddy," he tried, sighing with relief. "You okay?"

"I think so. I heard people outside. Is someone here?"

Liam's inquiry was honest, his eyes a kind and concerned light blue. His little hand held on the railing as he anticipated his father's response. He was waiting for Killian to assure him that everything was alright - to tell him it would be okay. He'd always been good at that.

"Fear not, little man," he told him, moving toward the stairs to lift the boy into his arms. "It's just us. I got ya. I'm here, son."

He meant that. He'd always be there for Liam, to soothe his nightmares and keep him safe the way his father never had with him. He wouldn't be like his dad. Most importantly, he would keep Liam away from his estranged grandfather. His little boy didn't deserve such disappointment.

He tried to keep that in mind constantly, even when Liam selected bedtime stories all week that his father had once shared with him. Killian knew he had to keep his family's best interest at heart - and that included his father's continued absence. It had been a determined plan, one that would eliminate any chance of his that man carving out a place in their lives - well, until Liam's birthday anyway.

"Swan, what's this?"

He lifted a small parchment bag that had been tied off with blue ribbon, a card attached to the side. Normally, it would have been rational question, but today his curiosity was slightly off given the fact that their living room was packed with presents for their little boy's party. This one, however, just stood out - it called to him for some reason and he had to know why.

"Oh," she replied, cautious and almost guiltily. "It was dropped off a few hours ago."

"Dropped off….by someone?"

She nodded, a glint of something sad in the expression she currently possessed. An incredulous gasp left his lips as he realized he didn't need her answer. He knew exactly who it was from.

"He wanted me to ask you if it was okay," she defended, moving toward him and unfastening the tie at the top of the bag. "It was supposed to be yours - and he thought Liam might like to have something of his father's from when he was younger."

Emma reached inside to retrieve the contents and Killian fought his curiosity. Her fingers were careful as she maneuvered it into view - a small wooden sailboat constructed with twine and sticks as well as a tiny canvas sail. It had clearly been made with much attention and love, an observation that made his stomach turn.

"Papa," Liam's voice came from behind him. "What's this word? G-r-a-n-d-p…."

His now five year old son was holding up the card that had been paired with the gift, pointing to the word labeling who it was from. The questioning blue of Liam's eyes wouldn't allow him to lie. He couldn't avoid the topic any longer, even if all he wanted to do was protect his boy from the man who'd caused nothing but damage in the past.

"It says 'grandpa'," he said quietly, gripping the paper firmly. "Grandpa Jones."

A week or so of constant questions from Liam had landed them here - a breakfast date with the man he'd promised to keep away. His son tugged on his arm, a small smile stretching at the corners of his lips in a way Killian quickly fell victim to. Apparently, it was time - and he wasn't about to find a way to avoid it any longer.

"I bet he's sitting at the back," Liam decided, yanking on the door with every ounce of strength his little arms had. "Probably where we usually sit."

"Maybe," Killian replied, his nerves taking over as he assisted his son in his strenuous task. "But we should probably-"

"Papa," Liam cut in, pointing to a nearby table and the man waiting there. "Is that him?"

Killian's eyes darted in that direction, his pulse pounding in his ears. His father was sitting anxiously, adjusting the popped collar of his black peacoat and tugging on the somewhat faded gray scarf around his neck. His hair was longer than KIllian remembered, falling sideways over his eyes in a way that resembled his own when it was grown out. He watched the man rub his hands together as he peered around the room, obviously searching for them. The moment their eyes locked, Killian took a steadying breath. His father appeared to notice and followed suite, his stare dropping to the boy that was still pondering the mysterious man at the table.

"Yeah," Killian confirmed, squeezing Liam's hand. "That's him."

He expected more inquires. He expected Liam to hold tight to his grip, waiting to be introduced. He should have expected nothing - his brave little boy was never one for patience.

"Grandpa!"

Killian felt his heart and voice hit the floor simultaneously as his son bounded across the room toward his grandfather. The moment seemed to occur in slow motion, his son's little arms wrapping quickly around the neck of the man Killian had been hoping would disappear. He watched surprise fill his father's face, the man's body freezing solid for a moment as tears filled his dark eyes. Killian fought his own gaze from evolving into some emotion as he watched.

In a torturously slow manner, his father wrapped his embrace around the small boy, pulling him onto his lap as he melted into the hug. It wasn't until Killian heard the subtle sound of two tears hitting the leather of his own jacket that he recognized just how hard he was being hit by the scene in front of him.

Despite the way his father had once left him behind and despite the resolution he'd made to not let this man back in, here they were - and this man loved his grandson withevery ounce of the heart he obviously still had. Killian was trying to settle with the fact that there was no way life would continue without his father as part of their world when his dad's loving gaze moved back up to find his. His stare was honest and grateful, the corner of his mouth turning up into a grin and he hugged the boy a little harder.

Killian didn't miss what was truly happening in that unexpected instance. His father loved Liam - the protective embrace and look of renewed hope were proof of that. But the way his expression held such promise and infinite joy told Killian that he was making up for lost time - he was pouring out what he'd been unable to give his own son all those years ago. Swiping at the tears he didn't want to recognize on his cheeks, Killian found himself unable to deny the gasp of a laugh leaving his throat.

He didn't know about second chances. He didn't want to make plans or accept apologies. He couldn't think about what this whole thing meant or what would happen now, but as he looked on, KIllian felt a wall drop - one that suggested an opportunity for his son and his father to know one another.

"I'm glad I finally got to see you, grandpa," Liam told the man, pulling back with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm….I'm sure glad for that too, my boy."

The look on his father's face wasn't one Killian had seen in decades - in fact, it was a whole new type of elated that perhaps he had never seen before. Something about that knowledge made him want to allow the man to have that happiness. He wanted to give him that - even though his father had given him little in return.

"Papa," Liam began, turning to face his own dad. "Can we have breakfast now? With pop-pop?"

Killian had to smirk at his son's affectionate term, but even more so at the confused expression the newly established Grandpa Jones was exhibiting. He was unable to stifle the chuckle building in his chest as he moved toward the table.

"You'll have to forgive that little endearment," KIllian explained nervously, shrugging as he finally addressed his father's presence. "That's what he calls Emma's dad. We can workshop a better name for you I suppose."

"Oh - it's…it's okay," his father smiled softly, adjusting his hold on the boy as Liam rested his head on his shoulder. "I don't mind. In fact - I think it's…perfect."

"But wait," Liam said suddenly, his eyes moving between the two men. "Grandpa, do you have a ship too?"

"I do," the eldest man nodded, tilting his head curiously at the boy. "Quite a lot like your father's actually."

"So you're a captain too?"

"I….guess," he answered, looking up at Killian for approval. "Why do you ask, sailor?"

"Because then you can be Captain Pop-Pop," Liam decided with a wide grin. "So it's different than what I call my other grandpa."

Killian felt a bit of jealousy swell in his shoulders, the idea of his little boy idolizing an additional pirate a thought he wasn't sure about just yet. He opened his mouth to form a rebuttal, but stopped as he watched his father laugh and run a hand over Liam's wild mess of hair.

Killian tried to ignore the memory of his father doing that to his unruly head when he was about Liam's age.

Maybe a battle over titles wasn't necessary on a morning like this one. Maybe a ceasefire was in order - even if it was just for a single breakfast date. Although as he watched his son and his father bond as if they were the only two people in the diner, he had to wonder if talk of a truce didn't have to be just temporary.