Hi there! Here's my latest project. I have to admit I have been working on it for almost a year, because I was crazy busy with university. BUT all good things come to an end, and I'm done with it (for now anyway!). So I've had time to finally work on this.

I'd like to thank DancingDoula for the fantastic job she's doing correcting all of my French induced mistakes. She's great!

I'll let you read now.

Palms motel, Portland, February 2001

Emma Swan walked across the room to gaze out the window for the tenth time, anxiously looking at her watch again. Neal should've returned over an hour ago, and she couldn't help but think he wasn't coming back. The thought made her head spin and she sat on the motel bed, putting her head in her hands.

This couldn't be happening, not now.

It wasn't supposed to take that long. After all, how long could it take to retrieve a bag from a bus locker? Clearly not over two hours, Emma told herself as she sighed, wondering what was keeping him. He was just supposed to get the watches, come back to the motel and then they could leave together.

At first Emma had wanted to go herself, not because she didn't trust him, but because she knew it would be less suspicious if she were the one to go. In the end though, Neal had convinced her that it would be best if he went instead, leaving her to wait in the crappy motel room.

Something must've gone wrong, Emma thought as she looked out the window again at the deserted parking lot of the motel. She knew that even if he had gotten caught by the police he would've used his phone call to tell her what happened, tell her to leave without him or whatever. He knew she couldn't stay here much longer, she would have to leave if he wasn't back in the next hour.

Trying to get her mind off Neal, Emma got up and started packing what little belongings she had. When she stuffed her last piece of clothing in her old backpack, she looked at her watch one final time. She had to leave the room now, she couldn't afford to pay one more night and she didn't want to stay here anyway. Not alone.

She walked to the bathroom to get her toothbrush, her eyes dropping on the pregnancy test that was still resting on the corner of the sink. Trying to keep her breathing controlled, she grabbed it and shoved it in the garbage, covering the little + sign that was showing on it. One tiny symbol that would change her life forever.

Turning off the lights, she got out of the bathroom, throwing her bag across her right shoulder and walking to the door. Neal wasn't coming back, she couldn't keep lying to herself anymore. The sooner she understood that, the sooner she could try and do something with her life.

Locking the door behind her, Emma Swan left the motel room and got into her yellow bug, fighting with everything she had to keep her eyes dry. She couldn't let him get to her, she wasn't alone anymore.

St-Mary's orphanage, Maine, May 2001

Checking the address on her phone for the third time, Emma finally stopped her car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. The sign read St-Mary's Orphanage in big black letters against the pale blue paint of the sign. This was the best thing to do. She couldn't raise a child, not when she had no one in the world, no job and no place to live.

The realization had hit her with the weight of a freight train a week ago, and she had googled the address of the orphanage she had been raised in, the fear of not being good enough making her heart ache. The memories she had from it were vague, but everyone had been nice to her from what she remembered. The trouble had started later, when she had gotten thrown into a system that wasn't meant for girls her age.

This was the best thing to do, she tried to convince herself again. The little boy she was carrying deserved his best chance, and anywhere would be better than with her.

Getting out of the car, Emma took a deep breath, and started walking across the driveway. The woman at the front desk had a professional smile when Emma pushed the doors and walked forward. She had no idea how she was going to do this, but she just had to.

"Hi, my name is Emma Swan, I was brought here about 20 years ago and I…" she started and then stopped as she saw the look on the other woman's face at the mention of her name.

"Emma, yes I remember you. I'm Helen," the woman at the desk said, the smile reaching her eyes and making the corners of them wrinkle, betraying her age.

"I'm sorry, I don't have a lot of memories from that time," Emma said apologetically, wondering how come she had made such an impression on the old lady who must've seen hundreds of little girls like her during her years working at the orphanage.

"That's okay, actually I remember your name because someone came looking for you a couple of years ago and it always stuck with me," Helen explained, turning around to dig through a filing cabinet.

"Someone came looking for me?" Emma asked, her throat closed up from the effect those words just had on her.

"Yes, a lovely woman, she came in with her husband. Saying how she had to find you, that you never should've ended up here, that it was all a huge misunderstanding," the woman explained, still going through the papers, finally finding what she was looking for.

It was a small yellow paper with only a name and a number on it. Emma opened her mouth to talk, but the words didn't seem to want to come out, so she closed her mouth again.

"They were your parents, Emma, made me promise that if you ever came back here I would give you their information," Helen told her, handing her the sheet of paper, smiling at Emma who was still at a loss for words.

Emma grabbed the paper and looked at the two words written on it. "Mary Margaret" read the paper, along with a phone number.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say, her eyes still fixed on the small piece of paper, almost afraid that it would disappear if she took her eyes away from it.

"You're welcome dear, I wish we could've reached you earlier, but we had no idea where you ended up after you left here," the older woman explained, sincerely saddened that Emma didn't have the chance to call her parents before.

"It's okay," Emma simply answered, finally taking her eyes off the 10 numbers scribbled in a hasty scroll over the paper. She couldn't believe this was really happening. She had always thought her parents were dead, or at least long gone by now. To know that they were still alive, that they were looking for her, that somehow they hadn't meant to give her up…

"Anyway, I'm sorry I interrupted you, was there anything I could do for you?" Helen asked, smiling at Emma.

It took her a few seconds to remember why she had come here at first. It was crazy how much your life could change in just a few minutes. Glancing at the paper one last time, Emma shook her head, offering Helen a smile and thanking her before she turned around and went through the doors.

She had climbed back in her car, shut the door behind her, and finally gave into the tears she had been repressing for the last 6 months, quickly joined by some that were almost two decades old…

Storybrook hospital, Maine, August 15th 2001

The joy Emma Swan felt when the young nurse put the now silent baby in her arms made her heart feel like it was going to explode. He was so tiny, so perfect, and most of all, he was hers.

A lot had changed in the last few months, and as she looked into the tiny eyes of her newborn baby, she couldn't help but feel tears prickling her eyes again. Much as they had when she had finally called her mom.

Her mom.

It still felt weird to even think about it. She wasn't alone anymore; she had a whole family, a home, parents… They were the reason she had decided to keep her son.

"I wish I had had the chance to raise you…" her mother told her when Emma said she had been thinking of giving her baby up for adoption.

The thing was, Emma had always wanted to raise her baby boy; she had just been scared of bringing him into a world where she couldn't properly care for him. Everything was different now though, enough that she had finally decided to keep him.

A small knock on the door interrupted the train of thoughts in her mind, and soon her mom's face appeared at the opening, coming back from getting coffee which she now held in her hand.

"How are you feeling?" Mary Margaret asked, walking towards the bed and settling down on one of the hospital chairs.

"Exhausted, but I don't think I've ever been this happy," Emma answered, looking up to smile at her mother who was smiling back at her. "Do you want to hold him?" she added after a moment, the look on her mom's face instantly answering her question.

Sitting up a little straighter, Emma carefully handed her the sleeping form and Mary Margaret slowly cuddled him against her chest.

"He's so perfect," she whispered, as though scared that talking too loud would somehow break this moment. "I wish your father were here now, I can't believe they cancelled his plane home," she continued, her eyes still fixed on her grandson's face.

"He'll be here soon enough," Emma told her with a smile, knowing how hard it was on her mother to have been away from her life all that time.

"It's just that we've already missed so much. All those little things; first steps, first words, first day of school…" Mary Margaret started, her voice shaky with emotion. "Taking you to Disneyworld and seeing the joy in your eyes as you met your favorite character," she continued, her voice breaking in the end.

"I know… But maybe we'll get the chance to share these moments with Henry," the younger woman replied in the same tone, resting her head on the pillow behind her.

"Yes, I am not going anywhere now," her mom said softly, raising her eyes to look at her beautiful daughter one more time.

In her eyes Emma could see everything. Love, family, but most of all, the promise of a better life than the one she had been living up until now.

Drogheda, Ireland, September 2005

Sitting in the small bar on the corner of his street, Killian Jones took one more sip of his rum. He probably should've stopped a few drinks ago, but why should he care? There was no one to tell him not to do it, and there wouldn't be anyone to yell at him when he came home so drunk that he couldn't even walk straight anymore.

Today wasn't a good day. Killian didn't usually get drunk, but today wasn't a normal day. Today was the day he had buried his brother. His Liam. The one person who had always been with him through everything, bad or good, for as long as he could remember.

Liam had been there when he had broken his arm in 6th grade, falling from the tree he was trying to climb. Liam had been there when he graduated from high school, standing proudly at the place his father should've been. Liam had been his best man when he married Milah and then when she left him for another man. Liam had been the one and only thing he could always count on.

His best friend, his co-worker, his anchor.

His brother.

And now? Now Killian was alone. More alone that he had ever been in his entire life. The worst part was that it was his fault. If only he had pushed harder for them not to go out that day. The forecast mentioned a storm, but Liam thought they could get back in time.

They hadn't been able to.

Drinking the rest of his glass in one gulp, Killian shut his eyelids tightly, wishing he could make it all go away. Wishing he could bring his brother back. Maybe when he opened his eyes again Liam would be sitting beside him. Smiling.

The drunkenness was not helping his delusions, so Killian opened his eyes and looked around almost hopefully, dizziness getting a hold of him and forcing him to hold on to the bar not to fall to the floor. No one was there. It was only him and a couple of others like him, too lost in their drinks to notice what was going on around them.

He was just about to order another glass of rum when his phone beeped in his pocket. He got it out with his good hand before switching it to his prosthetic, scrolling down with the other one. It was an email from the Disneyworld's hiring manager. He tried to get the gist of the email even as the letters kept dancing in front of his eyes.

We are pleased to… Position of Captain Hook… Interesting application…

"What the hell?" He muttered, frowning at the email, wondering why in the world he would get an email from Disneyworld.

That's when the memory hit him, so violently it made his heart ache. He had been sitting in this exact same spot when Liam had brought it up.

"Oh come on brother, you're not still thinking about what you could've done differently, are you?" Killian asked the man who was sitting on his right hand side.

"Well maybe if I hadn't…" Liam started but his brother interrupted him, raising his good hand to silence him.

"Accidents happen, I knew when I got into the fishing business that it wasn't without risk," he tried for the hundredth time, but Liam never wanted to hear it.

"Aye, but…"

"Liam, brother, all the 'buts' in the world can't change the fact that it happened. Okay? Now I could just get myself a hook and be Captain Hook," Killian joked, winking to the man next to him.

"Oh, aye, you look just like Captain Hook, all you need now is a glass of rum," he said, motioning to the bartender to bring the bottle.

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum?" Killian replied, thanking the bartender and grabbing the now full glass in front of him.

"The more I think about it, the more I think you'd be perfect to play Captain Hook," Liam agreed, looking at his brother with a glint of malice in his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, wondering what idea his brother had just gotten from the comparison to the famous pirate.

"Oh nothing, brother, just that you could totally pull it off, you even have the brooding look of a pirate," Liam continued as Killian took a sip from his rum.

"I do not look like a brooding pirate," Killian groaned, setting the glass back down on the bar.

"Oh aye you do, I'll prove it to you."

The memory of his brother bantering with him just made Killian's heart ache even more as he looked at Liam's usual seat next to him.

Sighing, he read the email again, after all maybe this was the change he needed. He had no one here, no family, not even close friends. Why not go and spend some time away from here, trade the cold damp Ireland for sunny Florida?

After all, he had nothing to lose and nothing keeping him here…

So here it is, I know it's starting off slow, but I needed to set everything up. I am planning on posting one chapter a week, since I'm still a couple of chapters short and need to work on them as well as correct the ones I'm posting.

I'd really like to know if you are interested to see where this is going, and if you liked it, so if you could drop me a line it would be really appreciated!

Thanks, and I'll see you next week!