Merry Christmas to all of you out there! Hope your holidays have been happy and warm. I meant to get this posted yesterday, but better a day late than never I suppose. This chapter finishes things up in nice, fluffy, happy ending style. Enjoy, and once more, I'd love to hear what you think when you've finished reading. I do not own the show or the characters; though if I could have gotten Killian for Christmas, I would never have asked for anything else again! ;)

Out of the Cold

Chapter Three: A Little Bit of Holiday Magic

By the time they reach Emma and Henry's apartment again, Emma is nearly beside herself. Henry hasn't spoken or opened his eyes during their whole journey – has barely even stirred – and she is desperate with the prayer that they aren't too late and can bring him around. She feels helpless as Killian carries her little boy and she can do nothing more to help, just follow, clinging to Henry's cold, limp hand.

When they get to her front door, Emma runs ahead to unlock it, only for the doorknob to turn easily under her hand. Confused, she pushes in and opens the door wide for Killian to come through with Henry. Once that is done, she glances around and realizes that she should not have been surprised. Her parents are already there, and have obviously resolved to do all they can to be ready for Henry's return – their faith never failing to astound Emma.

David quickly steps forward to take Henry from Killian, and Killian lets him with a grateful nod of acceptance, leaning against the back of the couch for a moment, obviously drained from both exertion and worry.

"David!" Snow calls from the entryway of the kitchen. "Get him out of those wet clothes and into the thermal pajamas I laid out there!" She enters the room laden with three already prepared hot water bottles, and as David settles his newly re-dressed grandson into the nest of blankets they have readied on the couch, right in front of the roaring fireplace, Snow tucks the hot water bottles at Henry's feet and against both of his sides before pulling the covers up to his chin. The dark-haired woman wistfully brushes the fringe of Henry's bangs to one side, off of his forehead, before standing and then quickly coming to wrap Emma in a soothing, motherly embrace, seeing that her daughter is shaking with unshed tears and about to break.

Killian is informing David of how they found Henry, how still he has been, and they are trying to figure out what else should be done – if they need to call Whale, if Regina must be notified, or if they merely need to keep him warm and pray for the best. David clasps Killian's shoulder in a grateful, wordless 'thank you' and show of support. The prince cannot go without thanking the other man for risking his own safety to bring his daughter and grandson back home, and it nearly undoes Emma all over again.

She can't find words or thoughts to even join in their discussion of the proper next step. All she can see is Henry, lying so still that she fears for a second in this weird place of fairytales come true that he has been frozen as a statue and won't ever return. Moving around the couch, she sits down on the coffee table and takes off her hat and gloves before reaching out to stroke her fingers along Henry's cheek, having to make sure he is real and still breathing.

"What else can we do?" she asks Snow, her voice steady again, but her eyes plaintively begging her mother to have the answers.

"Here," Snow offers, pulling a small jar of some sort of salve from the pocket of the apron she is wearing. "Rub this on his throat, chest, and back. I found it in the back of a cupboard the other day, oddly enough. I swear it's the same poultice I used once on Charming in the Enchanted Forest. He stayed out hunting for food so long that when he finally came back, I was afraid he might lose fingers and toes to frostbite."

Emma arches a brow doubtfully, but takes the container and unscrews the lid. Anticipating her unerringly, as he often does, Killian kneels beside the couch next to her and lifts Henry's torso to a sitting position so she can rub the concoction over his throat and chest, then switches places with her so she can lather the stuff on Henry's back as well. They work effortlessly and silently together, completely focused on Henry, and so miss the knowing look Charming and Snow exchange at the obvious manifestation of the strength of their partnership.

At first, as Emma sits back and puts the lid back on the jar, she wonders what good it has done. Then, as she watches Killian carefully making sure that Henry is lying comfortably and completely tucked back under the covers, she begins to feel tingling and then heat spreading over the hand she used to spread the salve. Her mouth drops open a bit in shock, and her eyes fly to her mother's for an instant, until she is even more happily startled to hear Henry mumble something incoherently and curl up more in his sleep. It isn't much, but the sound and movement are enough to make her pulse race with joy and hope. Glancing up to find Killian's eyes, he nods to her encouragingly, allowing her to take the sign for good when his mouth quirks into a tentative half smile.

Emma is pleased that her parents stay for some time after this, making supper, forcing first Killian, and then her, to get warm showers and then change into dry clothes themselves. She hates to leave Henry's side for even a second, but seeing the loving, devoted look on Snow's face as she takes Emma's seat, Emma heads for the bathroom with the image of Snow lightly sifting fingers through her grandson's hair. She can't stop the pang that shoots through her chest for an instant at the piercing reminder of what she missed growing up: a mother who would have cared for her like that any time she had been sick or hurt.

As she comes out of the shower in baggy grey sweatpants and a black tank, still toweling her hair dry, she nearly runs into Killian standing nervously in her room, obviously awaiting a moment to speak with her alone. Despite his seeming anxiousness, he looks as appealing as always to her. His dark hair is mussed in places and standing up wildly, as if he hasn't combed it after his own shower. He is wearing a simple, white V-neck men's undershirt and faded, holey blue jeans without shoes. Though she realizes that in some ways the magnetic pull of her attraction to him is what started this all in the first place, she can't help going to him, sinking into his embrace, and burying her face in his chest. Though the fresh smell of soap is on him, the spicy scent that is simply him – perhaps the mix of rum, leather, and the salt of ocean air and seawater – is incredibly comforting now, as she breathes it in and relishes the fact that he is here to hold and steady her when she needs him most. Her exhaustion and continued worry weigh her and cause her to melt against his body.

"Emma lass," he finally begins, his voice rough, yet soft, almost raspy with emotion. Stroking a hand through her hair, he finally makes himself go on. "I can't help feeling that much of what happened today was my fault. Henry felt I betrayed him, and he may never accept me if he feels that I'm keeping you apart from Baelfire."

Emma looks up into his bright, blue eyes, now appearing more stormy and conflicted than like the peaceful view of the morning sky over the sea that they usually seem. She's nothing if not quick on the uptake, and she swallows hard, fearing that he is about to do something she can't bear for what he thinks is her own good. "Killian, this isn't your fault…" she sucks in a shaky breath to continue, but before she can go on, he speaks up.

"Please, Love, let me get this out," he pleads earnestly, eyes latching onto hers and holding tight. "Once, long ago, I helped to separate a child and his mother, and I won't have a part in something like that again. I won't. I love you too much – love Henry too much – to cause either of you pain just to selfishly keep you near."

Tears well in her eyes as Emma watches her pirate struggle to let them both go, to do the right thing, even if it kills him. He is nobler, more heroic, than he will ever give himself credit for, and she loves him for it, though she can't bear to think of doing as he says. She reaches up her hands, cradling his face between them, pulling him in closer to her and making sure he hears her clearly. "Killian, please…don't pull away from me now. I won't survive it. You made me let you in, and now I can't let you go. Other than Henry, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the one always telling me to believe, to trust that everything will be okay. Now I need you to do the same."

She holds on, not blinking, barely breathing, until finally he nods in assent. "Aye, Love, I can do that. You're right. We'll find a way."

"Thank you," she whispers, sagging against him in relief and letting him pull her close and rub her back soothingly.

"No Emma, thank you, for caring for me so much," he replies, kissing the top of her head and never wanting to let go. "I only wished to do right by you, but I will gladly stay by your side for as long as you'll have me."

Finally, reluctantly, they part and hand-in-hand they walk back into the living room. Killian settles in the recliner by the fire, watching over Henry and Emma as she and her parents say their goodbyes. David gives Killian a handshake which turns into a one-armed hug, and Snow crosses the room to hug him warmly, whispering her thanks as well for all that he has done.

Once they are gone, Emma comes back to the end of the couch and perches lightly, making sure Henry's feet are covered and looking over him, drinking in the sight as he seems to rest peacefully and finally begins to believe that Henry will be okay. Her eyes begin to flutter closed sleepily and her head nods several times, the emotion and exertion of the past several hours completely catching up with her.

Killian's warm, rumbling voice brings her out of her third doze in as many minutes, easing and coaxing her to look at him. "Come on, Love," he murmurs, quirking one of his expressive dark eyebrows at her and opening his arms. She shakes her head for a moment at the silliness of the action, then slips off the couch, across the room, and curls up in his lap. "He's going to be fine," Killian murmurs, gently rocking, kissing her forehead, and wrapping his arms around her. "He'll be okay now. We all will."

She nods against his chest, feeling warm, comforted, and safe. Killian's soft words in her ear and the soothing feel of his strong hands on her skin ease her mind, and this time when her eyes drift closed, she lets them go, confident in his constant awareness even when he rests, that she and Henry are safe with him tonight.

~~~**/vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv/**~~~~

Waking the next morning, Emma is roused from sleep by a small hand shaking her shoulders and Henry's voice whispering urgently, "Mom, Mom!" She blinks groggily a few times, wiping sleep from her eyes and realizing that she is still cuddled in the gentle cocoon of Killian's body, his arms still holding her securely, making sure she won't fall, even as his beautiful, kissable lips have fallen partially open in sleep and he lets out the lightest, most adorable of snores. Grinning, she realizes that everyone she loves is safe and sound again for this Christmas morning, and it's the closest thing to a miracle she can imagine. Turning a beaming face to her son, she cups his face in her hands and pulls him in to plant a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "Henry! I'm glad you're awake! What do you need? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Henry answers, "I'm fine now." He bites his lip and his brow crinkles seriously for a moment, looking incredibly thoughtful and adult. He stares down at his feet, back at her, and then adds. "I need to say I'm sorry, Mom…I was afraid out there last night. I shouldn't have said those things to you – or to Killian – and I shouldn't have run out like that. I put us all in danger."

Emma is shaking her head before he can even finish, pulling him into a hug and assuring him that he has nothing to be sorry for, that they should have told him sooner. After a couple of long, healing moments, Henry pulls back and gives her one of his impish, playful grins. "So, can I give you my present right now?" he asks slyly.

She grins as well, caught up in the mischievous mood that has taken over Henry, and agrees.

"We have to wake up Killian. It's for him too," Henry instructs.

Emma turns in his lap and shakes Killian's shoulders lightly. "Wake up, Sleepyhead!" she prods jokingly. "It's Christmas!"

Killian blinks his long, luxurious lashes several times, coming back to the land of the living as slowly as she had. But then he sees those two precious faces – those he now considers his family – both looking at him expectantly and he sits up, happy to see them both looking so well and allowing him to be there with them. "What is it?" he asked curiously, his voice deep and husky from just waking and looking so sleepily disheveled that it is all Emma can do not to start kissing him again, even in front of Henry.

Then Henry is grinning widely at them again and bouncing on the balls of his feet eagerly with his secret. "Here," he says, leaning in and holding something up above their heads. Almost giggling, he seems so pleased with himself, Henry says, "I'm sorry I didn't get it at first, and sorry for the way I acted. I think I understand now. And I'm happy for you. You both deserve your happy ending. Look up!"

Casting their eyes up, Emma and Killian see that Henry is holding a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Emma doesn't know where he can have gotten it, how exactly he came to change his mind so suddenly from yesterday, but she decides not to question it and instead to simply be grateful.

"Are you sure?" she whispers to her son, studying him closely, trying to be sure to detect any feeling he might be hiding. "I don't want you to feel left out, or angry, or hurt, or ignored, or –"

"Mom!" Henry laughs, interrupting her with a shake of his head, "I promise! Now, Merry Christmas…" He nudges her, nods toward Killian, and then takes a step back.

Emma finally allows her eyes to drift back to her roguish, loving, incredible pirate captain and really take him in.

"Let's do as the boy says, Love," Killian whispers low, his decadent voice almost a purr of seduction.

Blushing in spite of herself, Emma nods, and their lips meet in a chaste, sweet kiss that still makes her heart race, her lips tingle, her toes curl, and somehow feels like a promise: that all this good really can be hers, and it is going to last. She pulls back reluctantly, bringing Henry into her arms as well as holding onto Killian, wanting both of her True Loves in her grasp. The happiness and love that swells inside her at this moment trumps anything Emma has experienced in her life, and she feels tears of joy streaming from her eyes. It is their own little bit of magic, and in truth, the holidays have never before been so warm and bright.