Here we go, my lovelies, the epilogue to Across Time And Space.

I realize this'll probably get lost somewhere in the episode waiting madness, but I figured you all deserved this while we wait :D

I've loved writing this, and I'm so glad you all joined me and stuck with me on this almost-year-long-journey. Now that this story is over, I will be focusing on Untitled, which is my Season Four Fanfic. I'm unsure how long that story will be, but the storyline is all laid out, so it shouldn't be too long inbetween updates. The first chapter will be uploaded by the end of this week.

I want to thank everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, favorited and simply loved this story! I love you all, and your enthusiastic response kept me going very often :)

Thank you all! Please, all of you, leave a review one last time!

Thoughts?

Love, Annaelle

PS Unbeta'd so far, but will be replaced with the beta'd version when it's done :D

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Epilogue

Three years later—Storybrooke—Jones' residence

Emma stretches languidly, sighing happily.

She enjoys the tranquil quiet in the house—for however long it lasts. With a mischievous toddler, a stubborn and entirely-too-curious-for-her-own-good preteen and a brooding teenager in the house, it's understandably rarely calm and quiet.

Emma's learned to savor each moment over the past three years.

"Mom!" Her fourteen-year-old son bursts into her bedroom, "Are you still not up?" Henry crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, "You need to get up, or we're going to be late." Emma sits up with a sigh, her thick, messy curls falling in her eyes.

"It's only nine, Henry," she smiles gently, "The wedding is at eleven."

Henry rolls his eyes—she swears that's something he's picked up from his father—and plops down on the bed next to her, dropping one hand to rest on Emma's once again swollen belly. "I know," he grumbles, "but I said I'd meet Grace there early, but I also promised dad I wouldn't leave you alone."

Emma chuckles and runs her fingers through Henry's perpetually messy hair—another thing he inherited from Killian—, smiling gently. "If you want to go see Grace, sweetheart, then go. I can take care of myself."

Henry frowns a little.

"What if you faint again?" He asks, "You nearly fell down the stairs last week. " Emma rolls her eyes at that—it was only once, because she hadn't eaten enough, and of course everyone keeps reminding her of it—and shakes her head.

Yes, she is having a harder time with this pregnancy than she'd had with Henry or with Liam's—but that is normal.

She is a bit older now.

"I'll be fine, Henry. Go see Grace—and check in on Rose and Roland, okay? I think Regina has more on her mind than those two little devils right now. I'll meet you at the church."

Henry sighs, but nods and leaves the room with a quick whispered goodbye—Emma smiles a little at that. Things are different now; Henry and Killian, when they had just returned from their adventure in Neverland, had both made a genuine effort to bond, as father and son, and with every day, Emma had seen her son grow into a miniature version of her husband.

It had made her cry a lot too back then—but she blames that on her hormones running rampant in her body.

Things have changed monumentally in the past three years.

On one hand, Storybrooke has never been safer than it is now—that is not to say it has been safe and calm over the past couple of years; quite the contrary. Only a few days after they had returned from Neverland, the Wicked Witch had blazed into town, causing mayhem and death—they had lost a few good people in the fight to subdue her—including Neal and Sidney Glass—but in the end, it had been Regina who saved them all.

Because in coming to Storybrooke, the Witch—Regina's long lost sister, apparently—made one mistake. She came by another Curse, and brought those who were still left in the Enchanted Forest along with her—including Robin Hood.

The man with the lion tattoo—Regina's True Love, as Tink informed them.

Robin, and his adorable son, Roland, had blown into Regina's heart and life and gave her the strength she needed to defeat her sister once and for all.

Killian and her parents had banned Emma from actually participating in the fight—she was pissed at the time, but she did understand; she had been six months pregnant with their son by then—so she just helped as much as she could by doing research with Belle, whining to her husband at night after Rose and Henry went to bed and bursting into tears every time Killian and her dad left to go confront the witch.

Emma had gone into labor in the middle of their last big battle with the Witch—of course—which led to the Witch almost being able to steal their baby boy; their little Liam. Though she still wasn't sure what Zelena would have done with her second son, Emma was glad Killian and her father had been able to stop it so Regina could defeat Zelena.

That, of course, did not mean Storybrooke had been quiet after the witch had been disposed of—no, there had been a smattering of villains to find their way to Storybrooke after that; not to mention Queen Elsa (who Emma immediately became friends with).

But it's been good for a while now.

And she hopes it stays that way.

She sighs a little at the memory and tries to shake off her overly dramatic mood—today is supposed to be a happy day for everyone in Storybrooke.

The witch has been defeated, families have been reunited after decades of separation and fear and everyone is okay.

Life is good.

Henry's growing like weed—as is Rose, who loves having someone her own age around (that, and Roland is adorable with her, and Emma swears they're going to end up married someday)—and Emma and Rose have been working on controlling and training their magic together with Elsa.

Liam isn't quite old enough to start yet, but Emma knows she can't postpone letting him learn how to control it for too long.

Henry doesn't seem to possess the same kind of magical quality that Emma and Rose do, and Regina speculated that it might just manifest in other ways—whereas Rose and Emma can use spells and incantations and alter something's physical state—like Liam—, Henry seems to be able to do the opposite. No spells or incantations, but the ability to convince people to see things differently—to speak to them charmingly and charismatically.

Emma hadn't noticed until Regina remarked it, but a lot of people—children as well as adults—seem to flock towards Henry when he is telling one of his stories.

She's snapped from her thoughts when she hears the front door slam closed, and the pitter-patter of small feet and giggles before her two-year-old son bursts into the room, jumping onto the bed excitedly, squealing, "Mama, Mama, Mama—I help Papa with big boat."

She groans a little as she wiggles around until she's sitting up—which is quite the feat, seeing as she's seven months pregnant with twins by now—grinning at her son, who's animatedly telling how he spent the last two days sailing with his daddy.

"I missed you, Mama," Liam finally concludes, moving to hug her so carefully, it makes Emma heart ache—it had taken her youngest quite some time to realize that he couldn't be so rough with his mother as usual, but once he did, he turned into quite the little gentleman.

Emma's sure her husband's behind that.

"I missed you too, baby," she hugs her son back tightly and presses a kiss to his unruly blonde curls. "Now where's your Papa?" She asks when Liam starts wiggling impatiently in her embrace—a clear sign the hug has lasted long enough in his opinion.

"Right here, love," Killian smiles as he enters the room, immediately moving to her side to press a kiss to her lips before his hand moves to touch her belly. "How are you and the little ones?"

"We missed you," she pouts dramatically, "And Robin was getting a little freaked out—you were cutting it a bit close. You're the best man; you can't miss the wedding." She reluctantly allows him to pull her to her feet—it's become quite difficult on her own, since her belly is ridiculously large and she feels like a beached whale more often than not—while their youngest son starts hopping up and down on their bed excitedly.

Killian chuckles and rubs her ginormous belly as he kisses her forehead. "The winds did not favor us, love—I am not the one with magical powers, I couldn't teleport us home. And there truly is no need for worry; we made it back, did we not?"

Emma nods happily, burrowing into his arms as much as she can manage with her belly in the way, hugging him tightly. She hates how clingy she gets when she's pregnant—he loves it, and tells her that he loves how affectionate she is—but she really likes hugging him. He's warm and sweet and he gives the best kisses.

Yup—she did good in the husband department.

"You should get dressed, love—the Queen might very well take our heads if we are late. We are the Best Man and Maid of Honor, after all."

Emma grins and nods, sighing a little—she's glad she won't have to stand for very long. Her legs can't take all the extra baby weight she's carrying around for very long anymore, and she's been on bed rest—which she heavily protested against—since she reached five months.

Regina and Robin's wedding is a grand affair—everyone is eager to see the now-reformed Evil Queen walk down the aisle to marry her True Love.

Emma had been really surprised when Regina had asked her to be the Maid of Honor—though no one but David had been surprised when Robin asked Killian to be his Best Man (and David had only been surprised because he'd secretly been hoping Robin would ask him)—but had accepted, eager at the prospect of getting to wear a pretty dress again.

Of course, that was before she realized she was pregnant again.

She's still excited to wear a pretty dress (she'll deny it if anyone asks), even though she'll look like a hippo with duck feet.

"Can you wrestle Liam into his clothes?" She asks Killian when she finally manages to convince herself to leave her husband's warm and comfortable embrace to change into her dress. "Henry already left, and I'm pretty sure Grace is over at Regina's to help get Rose and Roland get ready, so it's just us."

"Of course, love," Killian nods, before swooping down to the bed dramatically, grabbing their son and swinging him around as Liam giggles hysterically. "Papa!" she can hear him squeal as Killian runs down the hallway to Liam's bedroom, "Papa, you silly! Down!"

She smiles a little and shakes her head—two peas in a pod, those two.

Always had been too.

She remembers the moments right after Liam had been born—before the Witch came to try and take their precious baby—and Killian's awestruck face when Whale had first let him hold Liam.

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"He's so small, love," Killian whispers, "So tiny."

Emma nods shakily, tears running down her cheeks—tears of joy. She's never realized how much she missed not having had this moment with Henry until now. She's never realize quite how much she had been looking forward to seeing Killian hold their child.

"He's perfect," she breathes, stroking her finger down her son's soft cheek, marveling at how beautiful he is—he's got little blonde curls already, and when he opened his eyes earlier, she would've sworn they are as blue as Killian's.

She knows all babies are born with blue eyes, but she's sure that his will stay blue—or morph into an even more stunning shade of blue.

"Ten little fingers and toes," Killian chuckles weakly, playing with her son's little feet, "I counted—they're all there."

"I want to name him Liam," Emma whispers, looking up at her husband's tear-filled eyes, "for the greatest brother in the world—the kindest and bravest man I have ever met." She almost jumps when Killian suddenly leans down to kiss her, one arm protectively cradling their little boy, while his good hand strokes her cheek and tenderly wipes away her sweaty curls from her face.

"You would honor him as such?" Killian asks hoarsely, when he pulls away, and Emma can see fresh tears shine in his eyes—she cannot stand seeing him hurt, so she simply nods, reaching up to wipe away his tears.

"You're not the only one who remembers them anymore," she says quietly, tenderly, "And you no longer have to carry the burden of loving them alone—I loved them, Rose loved them… I'm sure even Henry does, even though he never met them. They're at peace now," she nods resolutely, "as they deserve—The Dark One's gone. They've been avenged—their killer has been…" She swallows thickly, because even though she hated the man, he was Neal's father, and once Neal got his act together, they'd all become good friends.

Before the Witch took him from them.

"…He's paid for his crimes," she finishes lamely, though it is true.

The Dark One had perished along with Pan.

Rumpelstiltskin, on the other hand, hadn't.

They still aren't sure quite how it happened, but a few weeks after they returned from Neverland, Rumpelstiltskin stumbled into town; clothes torn and dirty, hair in disarray and barefoot. He had no recollection of their time in Neverland—in fact, he only barely remembered anything that related to him being the Dark One.

Eventually, Emma had allowed Belle to take him home, where she cared for him with Neal—until Neal had died.

After Neal's death, no one had seen either Belle nor Rumple out in town.

"I know, love," Killian sighs, drawing her attention back to him and their newborn son, "I know—and I would love to name our son in honor of my brother." He looks down at the baby and smiles, "How about it, lad? Does Liam Jones sound good to you?"

Their son simply tugs on Killian's finger and gurgles happily, and Emma chuckles softly. "I guess that's a yes," she smiles, resting her head against her husband's shoulder as she admires their son.

"Liam David Jones," Killian decides, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she looks up at him in surprise, "His grandfather fought valiantly to protect his mother—he too deserved to be honored."

Another tear rolls down her cheek as she nods, returning her gaze to her baby boy. "Liam David Jones it is," she whispers, gently touching her fingertip to her son's tiny little nose, "Welcome to Storybrooke, Liam."

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Once Killian has managed to wrangle himself and his son into their suits, they wait by the door for Emma—well… He waits, while his son runs around the living room, chattering excitedly about seeing Roland and Uncle James (Snow and Charming's second child, who's actually younger than Liam is)—to finish dressing and come downstairs.

Truthfully, she waddles more than she walks, nowadays, and she moves slower—he knows she hates it, but he has always loved seeing her belly swell with their children—so he is usually in charge of getting their children ready for school in the morning.

Of course, this pregnancy had not been planned—not that Henry's or Liam's had been—and they had all been very surprised, but delighted nonetheless.

"Emma, love?" He calls out after he checks his watch, "Are you ready? We are running a little late."

He can hear a muffled groan and a thud, indicating that she dropped something again—and she's not going to be able to pick it up herself, he knows that much. She can't even bend over to tie her own shoelaces—not that he minds; he loves taking care of her. He sighs and smiles, shaking his head a little. "Liam, lad," he tells his son, "Can you stand watch like I taught you on the ship?"

The wee lad immediately stands to attention—it is an adorable sight, he has to admit—and nods. "Aye, Captain—Papa!" Liam clumsily salutes him, and Killian's heart squeezes painfully at the memory of his brother saluting him the same way many years ago.

He's struck by how much his son looks like his brother sometimes.

"There's a good lad," he smiles, before hurrying up the stairs to the Master Bedroom.

He finds her sitting on the bed in her underwear, pouting at her dress and shoes, that are lying in a heap on the floor. "You alright there, love?" he asks carefully, picking up the dress as he passes it, neatly laying it out on the bed as he sits beside her.

"My dress won't fit," she whines, "And I look like a beached whale."

"You do not, my love," he soothes her, pressing a kiss to her temple, "You look beautiful, like you always do—and your dress fit just fine yesterday, did it not?" It did, in fact, he's quite certain of that—she's been obsessively checking if it still fit for the past two weeks.

"But I'm fat," she wails dramatically, rubbing her swollen belly as if it'll disappear if she rubs hard enough.

"You are not fat, my love," he frowns at her, "You are pregnant with our children, and you're absolutely lovely." He pulls her to her feet gently and takes her dress from the bed. "Come now, darling," he smiles, "Get dressed—then you can see our little sailor standing watch."

Emma perks up considerably—somehow, the idea of seeing their son as a proud little sailor always does—and allows Killian to help her into her dress, smiling when he slides her feet into her flats. "There," he plays with her lusciously curly hair and offers his beautiful wife a genuine smile, "You are gorgeous, my love."

She sighs heavily and takes his hand. "Let's go to my little sailor and get Regina and Robin married."

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. "As you wish, my love."

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A few weeks later

Regina and Robin are taking an extended honeymoon after their wedding, and Roland is staying with Killian and Emma for the time being.

Needless to say, Killian and Emma have their hands full with three far too energetic children and a broody, lazy teenager—not to mention Emma's fast-approaching due date. They have decided to deliver the twins via a cesarean, knowing that the risks attached to natural birth will be greater with twins.

Killian is most excited—not only does he know exactly when he will get to meet his new daughter and son, but he also knows that his Emma will be safe while delivering their children, and that is what he truly needs to know.

Killian is chatting casually with Henry, who's sitting at the kitchen island, doing his homework while Killian prepares their dinner. Emma's in the living room, curled up on the couch in a nest of pillows and blankets with Liam, Rose and Roland, watching the monstrosity that is the Peter Pan Disney movie.

"So, dad," Henry scratches his ear confusedly, "what was the difference between a longitude and a meridian again?"

Killian chuckles and points his wooden spoon at his son reproachfully. "You are a pirate's son, lad—you should know that there is none. Longitude and meridian are synonyms. They run north to south if one was to look at the globe."

Henry wrinkles his nose and scribbles something down. "Oh, please," Henry grins, "Like you knew all of this when you were my age—I have to learn somehow."

Killian grins, shrugging as he turns back to his pasta with green pesto—Emma's latest craving. "I suppose so, lad. Tell me what a latitude is then, and how it runs across the globe." He smiles as he listens to his eldest recite what he had taught him last time they went sailing together.

"Very good, lad," he chuckles when Henry exhales loudly in relief, "I told you could do this, lad—you will ace that test, I am sure of it."

Henry grins and opens his mouth to reply when Liam suddenly comes running into the kitchen, eyes wide and a little confused. "Papa," he says urgently, "Papa, Mama needs the doctor—there's water on the couch now."

It takes a moment for the words to click and make sense in his head, and then his stomach drops, panic wriggling its way into his system. "Henry, call your grandparents and watch the others—I'm taking your mother to the hospital."

Henry's already moving, lifting his little brother onto the counter to play with him while on the phone with Snow. Killian sighs in relief before running to the bedroom, grabbing the bag Emma had prepared last week, in case the labor started early and they would need to get to the hospital in a hurry—he hadn't expected her labor to start early, and neither had she.

After all, Liam and Henry had both been born a few days after their due date.

"Killian," Emma shouts, followed by a loud groan. He nearly stumbles over his own feet in his hurry to get to his wife, who is standing by the front door, jacket half-on, clutching at her belly with a grimace.

"I'm here, love," he offers hurriedly, helping her into her jacket and ushering her out the door. "Your parents are on their way to watch the children and Henry can hold down the fort until then." !The ride to the hospital is tense and Emma's moaning in pain the whole time—she cries when it hits her that she's in labor and that it might be dangerous, and nothing he says calms her.

It makes him panic too, though he tries to hide it from his wife.

He pulls up in the parking lot of the hospital, almost not taking the time to yank his keys from the contact before he sprints around the car, opening Emma's door for her. She turns to look at him and he nearly cries in agony at the fear and pain in her beautiful green eyes.

"Let's get you inside, love," he whispers gently, gathering her up in his arms as she pants heavily, her fingers clenching in his shirt—she nuzzles her face in his neck when he's lifted her and has kicked the door shut.

"I love you," she breathes in his ear, "But I am never having sex with you ever again."

Killian chuckles weakly, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as he hurries inside, tightening his arms around her when she groans again, clutching at her stomach as another contraction hits her.

He winces once again when she tries to muffle her cry of pain into his shirt as he kicks the doors open, striding into the hospital determinedly. "Someone come help me," he yells loudly, startling the nurse behind the desk, "Please—now. She's gone into labour!"

"Sheriff Swan," the girl behind the desk squeaks, flustered and confused, "Are you—would—"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, child," the elder blonde nurse that helped deliver Liam interrupts, "Get Whale. Captain, please," she offers him a kind and reassuring smile that does nothing to help his frayed nerves—not with his Emma moaning in pain—, "you can lay her down here." She shows him to one of the hospital beds, where he reluctantly lays down Emma.

"Killian," she moans weakly, her voice barely audible, "Killian, I'm so cold."

He stares at her in confusion before he suddenly realizes that his sleeve is warm and wet and that the sheets in the bed are no longer white but rapidly staining with deep red blood and this is not good.

"NURSE!" He bellows, barely able to think, to move, to do anything but cradle Emma in his arms and scream for help—he can't lose her now, not now, not after everything.

"Killian, it hurts," Emma breathes, "Make it stop—please."

"You'll be fine, love," he chokes, his hands shaking as he strokes her sweaty curls from her forehead, "You have to be. I need you—we need you." She blinks up at him lazily, nodding slowly when he's suddenly pulled away from her.

"No," he screams, fighting the hands that are holding him back until he realizes that Whale is now with Emma, moving her bed down the long hall and that it's David and Robin—when did he get back?—holding him back. "No, let me go," he pleads, "Dave, mate, please—I have to—"

"You have to go talk to Henry and Liam and Rose," David says forcefully, shaking him, and he knows, he knows he has to think rationally, but there had been so much blood and he's scared, damn it.

"But—" he tries, but Robin cuts him off, shaking his head lightly.

"No, Killian. Go tell your children their mother is alright. The doctors will look after Emma—there's nothing you can do here now."

He stares between the two men for a moment longer, contemplating arguing before a voice in his head—one that sounds suspiciously like his wife—reminds him that little Liam is probably scared and confused and that Henry and Rose will needs assurances that none but him can give them.

"Fine," he sighs, "Fine. But I want to come back right away. I have to be here."

"I know, mate," David nods, his smile tight and strained, "I know."

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He's been sitting by Emma's bed for hours, holding her hand as he waits for her to wake up. She's okay, and Whale had been able to stop the bleeding before it got out of hand. Their son and daughter are both sleeping tightly in their bassinets, looking almost like tiny angels—he's sure that won't last long; just until they're hungry.

If they're anything like Liam was, they'll scream the house down to get attention.

He chuckles tiredly at the thought and momentarily shifts his gaze from Emma to his babies, smiling brightly—they are beautiful. Both inherited his dark hair, unlike Liam—who's Emma's spitting image—and Emma's chin.

"Daddy?"

He jumps a little, smiling at Rose as she slips into the room carefully. She's supposed to be with the Charmings, but he has long learned not to be surprised when she turns up—it's increasingly difficult to keep her from going somewhere when she's decided where she wants to be.

She started calling him and Emma 'mommy' and 'daddy' almost a year after they returned from Neverland, and it still makes his heart squeeze painfully—but he knows she only has hazy memories of Liam and Prue, and he loathes that, but he feels honored to know that Rose sees him and Emma as parents too.

Prue and Liam will always be her Mama and Papa—she's always been very insistent about that—and he's glad that Rose feels like she's a true part of their little family. "Hello, little love," he smiles, grinning a little when she immediately runs up to him and crawls into his lap to cuddle.

She peeks over the edge of the bed and pouts. "Is mommy going to be okay?"

"She's fine, love," he assures her, stroking his fingers through her wild curls, "she's just very tired."

"And the babies?"

"They're right there," he nods towards where the babies are sleeping in their bassinets. He watches as Rose jumps from his lap and peeks into the bassinet, smiling a little—he remembers how curious and confused she had been when Liam was a baby—as she gingerly touches Baby Boy Jones' hand.

"They's so small," she says, and he can hear the curious wonder in her tone, "They're smaller than Liam was."

He gets up, moving to stand beside her as she looks at the newest additions to their family. "Well, Liam was the only one in Emma's belly—he had a lot more room. There were two of them, so they had to wait until they were born to grow bigger."

Rose wrinkles her nose at him and frowns. "So they were even tinier last night?"

Killian laughs heartily, pressing a kiss to the top of Rose's head. "No, darling, they weren't—but now that they are born, the babies will grow bigger really fast. Like Liam, remember?"

Rose nods, her brow wrinkling as she studies the babies thoughtfully before turning to Emma, reaching for her hand. "When's mommy waking up?" She asks softly as she strokes Emma hand, careful to avoid the IV line Whale put in there because the veins in Emma's arm were too small.

"I don't know, little love," Killian sighs and returns to his chair, watching as Rose gently crawls onto the bed so she can snuggle with the woman she now sees as her mother.

"Can I stay, Daddy?" Rose whispers as she gets comfortable with Emma, being very careful not to touch her stomach—he's proud to see that Rose remembers that Emma was very uncomfortable about her stomach being touched right after Liam was born; it'll probably be even more tender after the C-section.

"Sure you can, love. I'm going to call your grandmother to tell her where you are," he smiles and steps out of the room, quickly making a call to Snow while he ponders on Rose and Emma's relationship.

He supposes they bonded over training their magic—Rose loves Elsa too.

Being a one of a kind magic user is a lot to bond over.

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Rose watches curiously as Auntie Emma and Miss Elsa talk and laugh, wrinkling her nose a little. She wants to laugh too, and Miss Elsa is hogging Auntie Emma's attention, and Rose doesn't like it.

She pouts, carefully thinking about what to do to get Auntie Emma to pay attention to her again—she doesn't like it when Auntie Emma and Uncle Killy don't pay attention to her; she's scared that they will disappear too, like Momma and Papa did, and she doesn't want Uncle Killy and Auntie Emma to disappear too.

She shivers a little, rubbing her little hands over her arms. She knows Peter Pan is gone and can't come steal her again—after all, Uncle Killy had promised—and that he was a liar, but sometimes, when she sees Uncle Killy and Auntie Emma with baby Liam or Henry, she is a little afraid that they won't need her anymore and forget her.

She doesn't like that idea.

"Auntie Emma," she finally cries, running forward to wrap her arms around Auntie Emma's waist, "You said we were going to make pretty magic." She knows that will draw Auntie Emma's attention and that Miss Elsa will be all forgotten instead of her.

Auntie Emma chuckles and runs her fingers through Rose's hair—Rose loves how that feels; it reminds her of how Mama used to braid and comb it in the morning. "We are, honey," Auntie Emma says softly, "I was talking to Elsa to see if she could teach us to do some of the spells she uses."

Rose wrinkles her nose and peeks at the tall blonde in the shiny blue dress. "You can do magic?"

Miss Elsa kneels down before her, smiling gently. "I can. I can make all kinds of things out of snow and ice—I made Olaf."

Rose's eyes widen and she squeals—Olaf is the bestest snowman ever. He played hide-and-seek with her and Roland and makes funny jokes all the time—and he gives the best hugs! "You did?" Rose claps her hands excitedly, "Can I make Olaf too?"

Elsa and Auntie Emma chuckle—Rose isn't sure why, she's serious—and Elsa shakes her head slowly. "I'm not sure, sweetie. But, I can show you how to make your own snowman—or how to use your magic. So you won't accidently do something that could hurt Henry or Liam—you don't want that to happen, right?"

Rose bites her lip nervously and turns back to Auntie Emma, clutching at her hand. "Auntie Emma, I won't hurt anyone."

Auntie Emma smiles gently and leans down, pressing a kiss to Rose's cheek. "I know you won't, honey—but think of how much fun it would be if we both knew how to use our magic—we could use it to surprise Uncle Killy."

Rose nods slowly, looking at Elsa uncertainly. "Are you going to take Auntie Emma and Uncle Killy away?"

Emma and Elsa share a sad look that Rose doesn't see before Elsa takes Rose's hand in hers gently and offers Rose a smile. "Did you know I had a sister?"

Rose shakes her head and pouts. "Where is she now?"

Elsa looks down briefly, tears filling her icy blue eyes as snowflakes begin to form around them. "I was trapped in the urn for a long time, and while I was in there, Anna and Kristoff had to grow old without me. Your Auntie Emma told me that Pan did that to you in Neverland."

Rose nods sadly and wipes at a tear in her eye. "Momma and Papa had to grow really old and then had to go to where grandmamma went before Auntie Emma found me."

"Exactly," Elsa squeezes Rose's hand softly, "I would never take away your Auntie and Uncle. I promise."

Rose studies the woman carefully before she nods, crossing her arms over her chest, "Okay. Can you do the magic now?" Emma and Elsa both laugh loudly, before Elsa gets to her feet and flicks her hand—the snow that fell when Miss Elsa was talking about her sister swirls prettily and Rose gasps in awe.

Maybe Miss Elsa isn't so bad after all.

As long as she remembers that Auntie Emma and Uncle Killy are hers.

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One week later—Granny's Diner

Emma shifts, a little uncomfortable, as her baby boy tugs on her hair while he stares up at her with his sea-green eyes. She loves the twin's eyes—it's not the same shade of green as her and her mother, but it is also not the kind of blue that Killian, Henry and Liam share; it's something in-between, and it is a perfect mix.

Killian is standing by the bar, talking to her father and Granny while holding their daughter, who's cooing happily at her grandfather.

She sighs and offers Elsa, who's sitting in the booth with her, playing cards with Rose, a small, tired smile. Her parents had insisted on a real naming ceremony—since they hadn't had one for Liam and Henry—for the twins, and Emma and Killian had eventually relented, knowing that this is one thing they can give her parents.

She knows Snow and Charming still agonize over missing her entire childhood and a lot of her adulthood, and having some of these traditions in place for their grandchildren gives them comfort.

"Are you okay, Emma?" Elsa's soft voice breaks her from her thoughts and she smiles tiredly.

"I'm fine," she smiles, "I'm just tired. They were up all night crying—Killian finally managed to get them to calm down by five AM."

Elsa looks at the little boy in Emma's arms and smiles lightly. "It seems so hard to believe that those two little angels could do that." Emma wants nothing more than to roll her eyes at Elsa and tell her to shut up because she has no idea what she's talking about, but she knows that's the exhaustion talking—the babies may be angels right now, but the moment the sun goes down, these two turn into little demons.

"Believe it, lass," Killian interjects as he slides in next to Emma, their newborn girl carefully cradled in his arms, "they're wee demons, these two."

Snow's hand seems to appear out of nowhere and smacks Killian on the back of the head. "Don't you talk about my grandbabies like that," she admonishes him as she joins them, "They're adorable." Emma giggles a little at Killian's expression and leans over to kiss his cheek and soothe his ruffled feathers.

"Mama," Liam squeals as he runs up to the booth with Henry in tow, "Mama, I wanna see the babies—can I see the babies?" Rose helps him crawl onto the seat next to hers—he almost crawls onto the table before Elsa grabs him and sets him back down on his seat.

"Can we know their names now?" Rose whines impatiently, and it's like a hush falls over the entire Diner—Regina and Robin are grinning; Regina just laughed when Snow insisted on the whole naming ceremony; and Roland is bouncing up and down next to them.

Emma smiles, warmth blooming in her heart as she takes in the faces of her friends and family around her, ending with her husband's beautiful blue eyes. "Yeah," she says softly, "Yeah." Killian smiles at her as she shuffles closer to him, their babies both yawning at the same time.

Her eyes cloud a little with tears as she takes in her babies—once upon a time, she'd thought she'd be alone forever, that she'd never be loved and would never love—but she was wrong and she's never been so glad to be wrong.

She has a husband that has loved her for centuries, that found her against all odds and she has five beautiful babies, parents and friends—even though they drive her insane sometimes—and she's happy.

Killian smiles at her and she knows he knows what she's thinking.

"Everyone," Killian announces, his eyes never leaving Emma's, "we want to introduce you to Lukas Aedan Jones—" Emma rests her hand on his arm and continues, "And Leia Ava Jones."

And though it's not perfect and it's chaotic and messy—it's their life.

And she loves it.