Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd have them kissing and doing more pleasurable activities all day long. Don't judge me.

"You have no way of fighting me," Pan taunted, and she followed his gaze to where an unmoving Henry laid. They had restored his heart, but he was still in Pan's power, and it had been by Pan's request for her to come alone so they could discuss their predicament that had brought her here.

Just them.

Pan, Henry and her. The boy who never grew up, the truest believer and the savior.

What a joke.

She gripped the hilt of her sword, as if it somehow would breathe courage into her just from the small contact - even though she knew to defeat Neverland's king, she'd be more lucky by using magic. Magic that she still wasn't too sure she could control, but it was worth a try.

Clenching her hands in fists, she tried to reign in her fury and finally snapped at him, "You'll have to get through all of this entire town to get Henry, and you will go down trying."

Pan smirked back at her, only achieving in making her even angrier, her hands now positively shaking. "You have seen what I can do. Do you want to risk everybody's lives - all of them, all this realm? Because I assure you, I will do it. I have been waiting centuries for this moment."

"Why do you need Henry's heart anyway?" She knew what Wendy had told them - that he was dying. Color her surprised, but wasn't he supposed to be immortal or something...? She had learned already how the fairytales she had grown up with weren't exactly the same as the one she had encountered since Henry had showed up at her door in Boston, but, well.

He shrugged, pacing around Henry's form on the ground between them, almost tauntingly. "I broke a rule, Emma. And I need a way to keep being a young boy." Just as he said that, he kneeled at Henry's side, hand poised over his chest, and before Emma knew what she was doing, she had run forward and put herself before her son.

"Wait! There must be another way," she pleaded, and at his cocked eyebrow, as if waiting for any suggestions, she finally said, "Take me instead."

That was what heroes did, right? They offered themselves to save the people they loved. That was what her parents always did, what they would have probably taught her if she had grown up with them back at her supposed home. That was what Henry thought she was, what Hook believed she was, what everybody in this stupid town said she was. A hero.

Pan, for his part, just gave her an unimpressed look. "Last time I checked, you were not the truest believer, Lost Girl."

She fumbled for an excuse, something that would make him consider her offer. He was a lost boy, the king of the lost boys, the 'father' of the tribe in Neverland, a place where the children who had no hope, nowhere to go, went...

And Pan was dying.

And then, something clicked.

"But... Neverland is run on lost boys' dreams and hopes. In belief. If I give up mine - let them all go. Go home," she begged, her voice lowering to the point that she almost couldn't hear it.

Pan considered her, cocking his head to the side, and for a moment there was only silence. Emma waited on baited breath until he brought his gaze back to hers, eyes appraising and calculating. "The Savior's happy ending? In exchange of all of theirs?"

She gulped loudly, and willed herself not to let her voice tremble. "Yes."

Never taking his eyes off her, he pulled back from Henry, to her relief. "Do you know what you're offering? They will all go back to their home, they won't even know it was you why they are free and finally happy. Their loved ones will be safe and sound, their pasts won't have scarred them anymore. And they won't be the wiser."

She gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing when she stared him down. "And you will leave them alone when you fly the hell out of here to your freaky island."

Pan approached until he was almost nose to nose with her. Emma could swear, as she looked into that child-like face, that she could see hundreds of nights spent alone, in bitterness and misery - not even being surrounded by those loyal lost boys, not being free and reckless, not playing and having an entire land to claim as his own. Any of it could fix the hole that the sacrifice he had made letting go of his son had left him.

Hook had been right... even looking as a child, he was a monster.

"If you do this, I swear to keep my promise. They won't remember you... but you will remember them. All of it."

Something heavy settled inside her, something she could not identify - something she didn't want to identify.

Even if she knew what it was. The dread of knowing what she would have to face, what she had experienced for twenty-eight years. What she would be willingly giving up just so her loved ones, the entire realm she had been prophesied to save could be happy.

Good always wins, Henry's voice reminded in her head.

She opened her eyes. Just like that first morning in Storybrooke, in the sheriff station's cell, just before Graham - God, Graham, - teased her about her supposed drinking for running over the town sign. Just before her life had begun, there, in Storybrooke.

"Deal."

Before he could say anything, she laid a hand over Henry's forehead and pressed a kiss over it, silently pleading for him to wake up and not give up on her - even if he wouldn't remember her. She thought she heard someone screaming her name, but she refused to let go of her son, and either way, there was nobody who knew she was here. It was just them, and after this, they would all be safe and sound.

There was a resounding crack, something that Pan must have done to get started with this new curse of his. Black tinted the edge of her vision, and she could swear she heard the echo of the lost boys' crying before she was out.

When she next woke up, she looked around, completely disoriented for a couple of seconds. She found herself lying on the road, the chill breeze blowing leaves through a deserted Main Street. She took in the empty houses, the now silent Granny's, and she knew without having to check there would be not a soul wandering the school hallways or the hospital. No Archie walking Pongo, no flirty wink from Ruby every morning, no whistling Leroy and the rest of the dwarves, no kind smile from Belle. No condescending Mr. Gold, no puppy-eyed Neal to fight with. Not even an impossible Regina to deal with.

No hugging Mary Margaret. No forehead-kissing, supportive-looking David.

No Henry.

And no smirky pirate to make her smile even when everything was slowly falling apart, to offer her rum when things escalated to the point of no return.

The small town that had slowly but surely become her home for the last months - the very first place where she had 'put down roots', on the previous absence of which regina had called out her once, long ago, in another life, another place, - was now a ghost town.

Emma shivered. It had worked. The evil shit had actually done it.

They were safe.

And they were gone. All gone.

And she remembered.

Clenching her eyes shut, a sob raking itself through her body - one that no one would hear anyway, - Emma wished with all her might she didn't.

Killian woke up with a gasp, panting like he had been running for his life, a scream lodged in his throat. He attempted to control his breathing, head canting to the side to inspect the light wooden panels of his ship's cabin with a flinch. For once, the gentle swaying of the Jolly didn't ease his mind. What had he been dreaming about that got him so worked up?

He pinched the bridge of his nose absentmindedly, but halted his movements to stare quizzically at his left hand, which had been scratching the hair at the nape of his neck. He sat there, inspecting it, the array of rings covering his fingers, and then put it against his naked chest, utterly fascinated at the steady pounding of his heart.

"Killian?"

He lowered his gaze to look at Milah, pressed against his side and snuggling comfortably in the linen sheets. She stared back at him with a confused, yet sleepy smile. "Are you okay?"

Slowly, he dropped his hand and laid back to tuck it in her dark curls, and brought her closer to him, a shiver barely suppressed at the warmth of her body. She nuzzled the crook of his neck, and sighed contentedly. Kissing the top of her head, he went to answer her even if he knew she would likely be falling right asleep in mere seconds. "Yes. Just a nightmare, love."

As much as he tried, he couldn't remember it, though.

He didn't know there was something to remember, anyway.

After he dismounted from the horse one of his crewmen had easily found for him in the village where they had docked the previous day, he was approached by a couple of the royal guards set right at the oak doors leading inside the castle. He stared them down, fighting a smirk at their unease, until one of them found it in himself to address the pirate standing in front of him in a suspicious tone: "What brings you here, outsider?"

Killian smirked back, raising an eyebrow. "I have been summoned by the prince himself." At their shocked expressions, he waved his hand in the palace's direction. "Check by yourselves, it is the truth. Pirate's honor."

After a quick run-in with the dwarves guarding the palace, they finally let him in, leading the pirate along tastefully decorated halls full of tapestries, statues and walls covered in paintings. He turned his head to look at one he hadn't noticed the only time he had ever visited the palace: it was a family portrait, an order to one of the greatest painters in the kingdom as a present for the king and queen. He looked at the two figures represented, the tall figure of Prince Charming standing behind the longue chaise where his wife, Princess Snow White sat, reclined. He had to admit the similarity was uncanny, and he couldn't help the smile that crept upon his face, recalling the queen's resigned face when he had teased her about her well-known fair looks across the lands the first time they met.

Something nagged at him, though. Like there was something missing in the portrait. He knew they had no heir to the throne - though, if rumors were true, that was about to change, as he had heard in the tavern the previous night how the princess was indeed pregnant.

Maybe that was why he found the portrait... oddly incomplete.

The guard behind him cleared his throat, probably wondering why the pirate wouldn't go on to greet their Majesties and opting instead to gaze mesmerized at a portrait of the royal family. Shaking his head, he trotted along until they reached the throne room, where prince Charming was waiting for him. A real grin stole his lips, and he lifted his arms towards him, in an attempt to charm the prince with that formal shite he detested. "Long time no see, your Highness."

Charming lifted his head and sighed heavily, making his grin widen. "Captain Jones. We request your assistance once more."

The man was always straight to the point, something Killian admired. Though he would never admit it to him. He waved his hand unapologetically.

"I don't doubt it. I am a very sought after man, after all. Even by royals from time to time," he added teasingly.

He was familiar with the royal couple because they had worked together not long ago, after setting a deal which had turned out to work out perfectly for all of them. Killian was not sure he had ever believed he would get along with a prince beforehand, but Charming and Snow White were no ordinary royals, that was for sure.

Charming sent him a serious look. "Don't make me regret this." Picking up a sheet of paper from the oak table he had been examining previous to his arrival, he motioned for him to come closer so he could peek at it. "We heard there is a deadly poison, a plant, that our enemies are intent on finding and possibly using against our army. I want you to cross over this realm and destroy it."

Killian startled. He was sure most royals would probably keep some of that blasted lethal plant - a plant he knew all too well, a plant that had taken his brother's life, - to use it as a last resort weapon, a threat. He had sworn to never go back to that place the day he buried Liam at sea - yet here was bloody prince Charming, a honorable man through and through, offering him to get rid of the poison that had ripped Liam away from him.

As pirates went, Killian liked to think himself as a man of honor.

...but a pirate, nevertheless.

"What's in it for me?," he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You mean apart from not hanging you for piracy?"

He leered at him, fighting back a laugh. "I would love to see you try, mate."

To his surprise, Charming just rolled his eyes and clapped a hand over his shoulder, motioning him to another chamber. "Come on. Let's have a drink. I'm sure it has been a long trip, but we must hurry."

Killian let himself be dragged along, oddly touched at the strange bond he had somehow started with a bloody prince of all people.

Before he knew it, he said, "I knew we were getting along."

The small smile they shared lingered in Killian's mind, and he wondered once more why it felt like he had known the prince longer than he really had.

"Would you like it gift wrapped, sweetheart?"

Emma flinched - as every damn time she heard some endearment like that, - but carefully masked her unease, sending a weak smile to the old lady who ran the place. "No, it's okay. Thank you."

She rapidly fled the cozy patisserie she had only ever visited once in her entire life, a small establishment carefully hidden inbetween bigger and fancier stores that she had overlooked for years but had caught her eye, hugging the small white card-box against her chest as she walked back to her apartment. Seeing as Storybrooke had been no place to stay, not when no one from the outside world - the Land without Magic - could even step further than the town line, and most importantly no soul living in it, she had moved back to Boston. Back to her old apartment once she settled with the owner she was coming back for good, explaining how her 'little town experiment' hadn't worked out in the end. Same happened when she went to talk to her former boss, who waved at her unapologetically and assured her he was just glad to have her back and she had left behind the sheriffing, offering her a stack of files with new cases for her to track down.

As if nothing had changed.

Curiously enough, it seemed as it hadn't.

Though Emma knew better.

Stepping out of her boots, she left her purse and scarf over a chair and walked to the kitchen, leaving her treat on the counter. Her hands shook as she frantically opened the drawers in a desperate search of a match or a lighter - and God, she let out a hysterical laugh as a buried memory of two men fighting over a lighter rushed through her frenzied thoughts. She shook her head, brushing it aside - and failing miserably, - as her fingers found the raspy edge of a match box. She picked it up gingerly, almost dropping it twice while she opened it and fished out one, and finally dared to reveal the birthday cake inside the small box.

A cupcake. An exact replica of the one she had once bought for herself a lifetime ago, right before everything had changed.

She had debated long and hard about doing this - it would only make things worse, she knew. What good could it possibly bring? It was not like making a wish would somehow stop all the heartbreak she was experiencing and bring back everything that had been ripped from her.

Yet she had learned the hard way - a flash of Henry's unmoving form on a hospital bed flashed behind her eyelids, - how there is always hope, and how happy endings always start with hope, and how she was a lost princess, and how her entirely fucked up family tree were fairytale characters who believed in true love and happily ever afters if you believed strong enough.

Emma had never been good at this, but conjuring Henry's hopeful face in her mind, she willed herself to try. For him.

For her.

Trembling hand setting the small blue star candle over the cake, she carefully lit it with the match after two failed attempts. Emma dropped against the counter, staring fixedly at the steady flame, mesmerized for a moment and thinking of what it was she should wish.

I want Henry. I want my family. I want to be happy. I want to stop being alone. I want the pain to go away. I want to go back.

I want them to remember me. To fight for me. To find me.

Clenching her eyes shut, she blew out the candle, and held her breath for what felt like an eternity, just focusing on every sound around her. The humming of the fridge, the sirens and honks of the cars below the street, the soft voices of the television from her neighbors next door.

But no footsteps outside her door. No one knocking.

She collapsed on the floor, not bothering to fight anymore the tears prickling against her eyes. She should have known better than that - it wasn't like time after time, she had been proven that, no matter the circumstances, it always ended up like this.

A lost girl, who didn't matter, crying herself to sleep at night because she missed her family so much.

She lifted her arm to pick up the cupcake, and snapped the candle with a sound crack before throwing it out viciously to the other side of the kitchen.

Killian wasn't too fond of dances - he was way more likely to be found in some tavern spending his doubloons on rum and ale, playing cards with his crew or cheating any idiot who dared to try to best him. At least, until Milah reminded him they had to go back to the Jolly and sleep it off before he had to resume his duties as captain the following morning.

That is, if she wasn't with him, enjoying herself. The woman was a mean one at holding her liquor, that was for sure.

Alas, this wasn't such an occasion. After his successful trip to Neverland and destruction of the Dreamshade, he had come back to the Enchanted Forrest and the Charming's kingdom to relay the news to the royal couple. He had tried to be succinct and nonchalant as he relayed the story, leaving aside how viciously he had made his way through the entire plant, the cruel satisfaction in his eyes while he lit it up and it burned, turning into ashes right in front of him. The memory of Liam's body falling to the sea swam through his thoughts, the day he had sworn to never follow orders from anybody apart from himself, the day Captain Jones was born and Lieutenant Jones was buried at sea along with his beloved brother.

Funny, how now he made his way through the guests swarming the beautifully arranged hall, people from the entire realm, whom were gathered at the Charming's palace to celebrate the peace he had helped to achieve with his 'honorable actions'.

A pirate that had somehow become a hero.

Funny, indeed.

With Milah's hand gently tucked under his arm, he guided her through dancers and small groups who laughed and enjoyed themselves, feeling strangely at ease and out of place at the same time. He shared a look with his partner, and at her small smile, he kissed her hand quietly and walked to the side of the room where the refreshments laid. He was serving them some wine - 'of course there'd be no rum in the bloody palace', he commented sourly under his breath at Milah's low chuckle, - when a small body showed up at his side, picking up a piece of cheese from a tray and making him almost spill his drink over the tablecloth.

"Sorry!"

Killian left both glasses over the table to turn his attention to the boy. "It is no problem, lad. Though I'm sure the prince would have a word or two about my ogre-like manners if I had made a mess of his celebration."

"He's not very fond of ogres."

Killian chuckled. "Neither he is of pirates, or so I hear."

The boy's eyes lit up at that, voice getting louder by seconds. "Pirates? You're Captain Jones?"

"Aye, that I am." Before the boy could question him further, someone called for his attention, and he turned to see the prince walking in fast strides in their direction, the princess hot on his heels.

He inclined his head politely. "Ah, prince Charming. And Snow White, lovely as ever."

She let him kiss her hand gallantly, not without a practiced eye roll at his antics. "Captain." She turned to Milah then, and Killian realized they had never met her before. He nodded to her, smiling proudly, and pushed her gently towards them so she could shake hands with the princess. "This is Milah."

"And I am Henry," the boy interrupted, sticking his chest proudly.

Milah laughed, and so did he, and they both bowed. "My pleasure, Henry."

Snow ruffled the boy's hair affectionately - to the boy's horror, who promptly swatted her hand away to her amusement. "He is my godmother's son. They're family."

Killian's eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn't known Regina had a son. He had heard - as the whole kingdom had - of how Cora's daughter had given up her rightful place as queen and married a young man she had fallen for, a common stable boy, to everybody's surprise.

Henry, seemingly bored with the conversation, mock saluted him and left in search of his mother. Killian followed his path until he saw him reaching up to take Regina's hand, who interrupted her dancing with a tall, smiling partner and hugged him to her side. "I don't really see the resemblance."

Snow and Charming shared a look. "They found him in the forest, alone. A friend of ours tracked his scent and brought him to the palace when he was just a baby. Regina and Daniel took him in, has been with us since then."

Killian could feel Milah stiffening at his side, and he tried to comfort her by grasping her hand tightly in his. Talking about hopeless, lonely children always made her miserable, reminding her of the time she herself had given up her son when she met Killian. He always offered her the same answer whenever she chastised herself for being so selfish: she had come back for him. Killian convinced her after he saw how much she missed her son to go back and make amends with Rumplelstiltskin, promising to visit Baelfire whenever they made port. It hadn't been easy, nothing was - but it had worked quite well for them in the end. Bae had been hurt, Rumplelstiltskin had been bitter, and Milah had been remorseful. It had been mostly thanks to the maid that Rumplelstiltskin had hired, a young, lovely and kind girl named Belle, that their relationship had slowly healed to what it was today.

It was no surprise Rumplelstiltskin had fallen for her.

Snapping his attention back to the present, he managed a small grin towards the princess, who appeared to have taken notice of Milah's discomfort but was polite enough not to pry. "Your family is quite special and generous indeed, princess."

"Stop calling me that," she whined, and something tugged at his memory at her annoyed expression, her sparkling eyes... - but flew away as soon as it came. He grinned wider when he was offered his glass of wine, and he took it gratefully, sending her a wink.

"Thank you, milady."

Adjusting the straps of her dress over her shoulders, Emma fixed her hair one last time as she headed up to the glass doors leading to the hotel restaurant. She stepped in after the doorman showed her in, ignoring the not-so-subtle leers she was being sent by a couple of oglers from the bar, cocktails empty in front of them. She glanced around, looking for her mark.

Paul Castle.

He wasn't bad looking, she mused as she approached the table. He would have been Emma's type, maybe, long ago. Not that she was even remotely interested.

Not anymore.

He got up and offered his hand for her to shake. "Emma. Lovely name."

"Thank you. You should see my phone number."

He grinned, enthused, and motioned for her to sit. "Oh, cheeky. I'm impressed."

She tried not to roll her eyes. Typical. "You have seen nothing yet."

"What I do see, I like already, believe me," he added, voice lowering. She had been in the business long enough to master her best flustered look at unwanted attention, dropping her eyes to her hands and appearing to mask a blush which wasn't there in the first place.

Paul cleared his throat, and after calling for the maître's attention and advice on some red wine, he turned to her once more and, before he could say something, she went in first.

"So tell me. What is it that got you looking for a date?"

He didn't miss a beat. "I was lonely."

"Hard to believe," she countered back, raising an eyebrow and making a show of looking him up and down. The guy was attractive, she couldn't deny - it wouldn't be too difficult for him to get laid whenever he wanted.

He let out a humorless chuckle, knuckles rapping against the tablecloth. "Tell that to a recently divorced guy."

Ah. There he was. At least he hadn't lied about that, she thought with an inward shrug.

Though she guessed that didn't make up for what he had done.

She tried to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing."

Emma didn't usually engage in such in-depth conversations with her marks, but she was oddly curious to hear what he had to say. "It doesn't sound like nothing. How long were you married?"

He sat straighter and put his head in his hands, fingers raking through his hair. "Not that long, but... I thought it was it, you know?"

Emma sat completely stunned. She hadn't expected... that. He talked about his failed relationship as if he was talking about fate, about soulmates.

True love.

She clenched her eyes shut, murmuring back, "Yeah. I do."

"And to make matters worse, she took my kid with her and I have no way to..." He paused and must have seen the sheer panic in her eyes - panic at the feelings, the heartbreak about to break out, spilling from every wound that wouldn't heal no matter how hard she tried to forget - because he shook his head and waved a placating hand in her direction. "I'm sorry. This is the worst way to start a date. I'm probably making you uncomfortable."

Emma was having actual trouble breathing, images of Henry, of the baby she hadn't had the chance or will to even look at while she laid handcuffed to a hospital bed, of him showing up at her door and waltzing in as if he owned the place, of him hugging her to him when she was about to leave Storybrooke for good, of him calling her mom, of him mad at her for not telling him about Neal, of him in Neverland laying on the ground, pale, not moving, almost dead...

Of Henry, God knew where he'd be right then, being happy. Without her. Not even knowing that she was somewhere, far away from him, missing him, loving him. Just as she had always done, but so much worse - so much, after she had come to meet him, to let him in and not being able to stop him from getting to her.

"Actually I don't feel pretty well," she managed to say, taking the napkin from her knees and leaving it over the table as she got to her feet. "I think I'm going to leave. If you excuse me..."

He followed her as she took hurried steps towards the exit door, to the doorman's surprised expression. Paul's hand shot out to grip her upper arm, and she turned her head to stare at it cautiously. "Hey, Emma, I'm really sorry, I..."

"No, it's not your fault," she attempted to argue lamely, curls bouncing as she shook her head vehemently, unable to meet his eyes. There must have been something in her expression then, though, because he dropped his hand and his voice turned softer.

"You have a kid, don't you?"

She choked back a laugh. For someone who had always prided herself in being completely closed off and pretty much unable to read, she was completely and utterly screwed now.

A tilting voice whispered in her ear, As I said, open book.

"Goodbye, Paul."

"Now, if you want to become a proper knight, you can only achieve it by having your own steed."

David had to suppress a laugh as he stared down at Henry, whose eyes had widened comically when he faced the 'surprise' he and Daniel had arranged for his birthday. They had agreed on finally teaching him horse riding - apart from the rest of menages he'd have to take care of before he did, but that... the boy didn't need to know. Yet.

It would be fun to see his reaction.

"It's mine?" his face had lit up, and Daniel put a comforting arm over his thin shoulders, smiling proudly at him.

"It is. Now, you name him and we will show you what is it you all you have to do, okay?"

At that, Henry's forehead scrunched up, and he looked up at Daniel. "What do you mean, 'all' I have to do?"

Daniel and David exchanged an amused look. "You didn't really think you would get to ride him immediately, did you?"

"But..."

David chuckled and went to take care of his own horse, leaving this one to Daniel, but still unable to stop himself from chuckling when he heard Henry's vehement protests of how he was ready, and how they should trust him already and how it would do him no good to spend precious time horse sitting when he could be galloping around.

Whenever the stubborn side of Henry showed up, he couldn't help but see a small part of him in the young boy, and he wondered how it could be.

Or how he'd have Snow's chin.

She was searching for a pair of socks that had fallen under her bed, kneeling and awkwardly palming the floor when her hand made contact with a card box. Emma froze, her fingers still grasping the edge, and finally, with a shuddering breath, she pulled it out in the open to reveal its contents, her face pinching in distress as it always did whenever she dared to check it out.

A collection of Disney movies.

She had never bothered to buy the copies - she had never owned a DVD player until she was way past the age of watching children movies - but one day, after she had almost sprained her ankle in her pursuit of one of her marks, she had drank one too many glasses of wine to calm herself and try to numb her pain, both physical and emotional. She didn't know how on earth she had ended up at a store picking up every one of the fairytales brought to screen flicks: the Little Mermaid, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Aladdin, Pinocchio, 101 Dalmatians, Mulan, Peter Pan...

The next day, she had purposefully put all of them in a box, intending to throw them away in case they didn't accept returns in the store. Hell, she didn't even remember what store she had even bought them at. As soon as she had approached the trash can, her limbs refused to come any closer, and she realized she wouldn't be getting rid of them even if she wanted nothing more in the world - to have a painful reminder of the life she had lost so close to her, taunting her, mocking her.

With a sigh, she had shuffled back to her apartment, the grinning designs on the movie covers doing nothing but making her scowl and bringing tears to her eyes. She had put them all back in the box and kicked it under the bed.

Staring at them now, she wondered if she would ever find the strength to finally let them go. She traced Snow White's fair smile on the cover with her finger, smiling despite herself when she noticed the small blue bird on the cartoon's hand, the memory of her mother talking to a crow back in the Enchanted Forrest hitting her fast and hard.

Some of them had gotten things right.

Emma shook her head angrily, and rushed to hit the box with her feet so it was as far away from her as possible. She would not throw them away, but maybe she would find some kid who wanted them or something. That way it wouldn't be a total waste of money and time - and a cruel memo of how raw her pain was, would probably always be.

She was keeping them. For now.

She was not sentimental.

It was then, at that moment in between asleep and awake, when conversation was minimal after a passionate session of love making, curled up on the bed together, sheets twisted around their bodies. Spent, exhausted, eyes closed and mind drifting, dreams on the tip of his tongue.

It was then. When he heard it.

Crying.

Not any crying. It was a woman, a girl.

But this was no ordinary crying - no sobbing damsel in distress, no panicked woman about to be attacked, no sniffling maid waving her handkerchief. Not at all.

It was a lost girl.

He startled, and sat on the bed, shaken to the core, almost afraid, heart beating erratically against his chest. "Do you hear that?"

Milah tossed, her voice muffled against the pillow as she turned to look at him questioningly. "What?"

Killian passed a hand through his hair, and noticed, bewildered, how he was almost shaking, sweat forming in his forehead. "It sounded like the cries in Neverland at night."

He kept staring ahead of him, almost willing the strange woman to cry again, to prove that it hadn't been a figment of his imagination, his past, his darker nightmares. "What do you mean?" Milah asked, now sounding alarmed. She had followed him, sitting up to embrace him, her chest warming his back as she curled her arms around his comfortingly.

"The cries of the lost boys," he said, no hesitation, those abandoned boys' echoes haunting every night he had spent in Neverland, making it almost impossible for him to get an ounce of rest - their pain, their hopelessness, their raw despair... that was exactly how the woman's cries had sounded.

Milah's voice brought him back to the present, and it sounded tentative, confused. "There are no lost boys in Neverland, you said so when you went on that mission for the Charmings."

Killian froze.

...and realized that she was right. He had only been to Neverland twice, and he had never spent a night there - his desire to leave as soon as they were done destroying the plant making him haste about the island until they could flee back home.

So, then the question remained - where had that idea of lost boys cries come from?

Killian clenched his eyes shut, a shiver coursing through his spine. He was acting insane. He didn't know what it was, maybe the stress that the trip to that blasted land had brought with it was affecting him somehow, he couldn't be sure. Taking Milah's hands in his and carefully maneuvering them both to lay side by side on the bed, he kissed her shoulder, and felt her relax in his arms.

"You're right... I don't know what came over me," he whispered, and spent the following minutes listening to her breathing slow, her eyes fluttering closed. He rubbed his nose against hers, and did his best to let exhaustion and sleep claim him.

The echo of the woman crying was the last thing he remembered before he fell under.

So, I saw this prompt a long while ago and thought it was absolutely heartbreaking and painful and full of possibility - but no one wrote it, sadly. I decided to give it a go, - and with all these speculations going around about the next half of the season it was kind of begging to be written (of course it isn't the same but I had fun either way).

As a side note, I'd say that I am trying not to go too far into the 'happy endings' stories because, as all of them are completely entangled with each other, it is a pain in the ass to try to figure them out. If Snow wasn't being chased down by Regina, she wouldn't have met Red, for example - so I'm going out of the way here and imagining they *did* meet, somehow. The key ones that need to be addressed, I did. Hope it isn't too confusing.

thanks to cee for beta'ing and making me laugh and cry with lines such as 'GOOD WORD I APPROVE OF THIS WORD', 'THAT IS V. POETIC AND V. HURTFUL, GO AWAY YOU FRICKER', 'OKAY I LAUGHED' or 'YOU... YOU... YOU!'. Also, blame her - and Neruda - for the title.

PS: Bastille and Ellie Goulding. Loads of those involved in this.