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Killian must be dreaming: that can be the only explanation for why he's lying in a comfortable bed in Granny's inn, a naked and sated Emma Swan collapsed against his side. He tightens his hold on her and savors the moment. If this is a dream, he will enjoy it for as long as it lasts. If this is real, well, he's the luckiest bastard that ever lived.
His mind wanders, and he thinks back to earlier in the evening when Emma had come out to share a drink with him on Granny’s patio.
“So what did your parents decide to name the little prince?” he asks.
“Neal,” she mumbles into his shoulder.
"Hmm?" he asks, glancing down at her. His own hand traces circles on her back while his wrist rests between his head and the headboard.
"They named him Neal," Emma whispers. Her fingers trace patterns on Killian's bare chest, scratching lightly through his chest hair.
Emma looks up at him and clears her throat.
"My little brother," she clarifies, making a face. "They named him Neal."
Killian stops his idle caresses and frowns at her.
"They named their babe after your lad's father? Henry's okay with that?"
"I have no idea - they didn't even ask him," Emma replies. "They didn't ask me, either," she mutters, curling her lip.
"Wait - you mean to tell me that your parents named their babe after a man important to their daughter and grandson without asking first?" Killian exclaims.
Emma sighs harshly and pushes herself up to sit facing him properly.
"Apparently."
"Well, I suppose they wanted to honor his sacrifice," Killian ventures cautiously.
"Yeah, his heroic sacrifice," Emma sneers. "Never mind that it wouldn't have been necessary in the first place if he'd left well enough alone, never mind that he left me-" she cuts herself off with a shake of her head.
Killian sits up fully and reaches for Emma's hands.
"Swan?" he asks gently. "What did he do to you?"
Because he may not have the details, but he’d witnessed enough of Emma’s interactions with Bae - Neal, with Neal - to know that something had happened between them that had wounded Emma deeply. He holds his breath after the question slips out and hopes she doesn’t freeze him out.
Emma glances up at him and then away. She plays with his hand before gathering the strength to look up again. Killian is still watching her with a soft, open look on his face. She knows if she tells him to drop it he will, but she also thinks maybe she can trust that he won't judge her if she tells him.
She thinks about the revelation from earlier that evening - he'd traded his ship, his home, for her - and thinks maybe she can be vulnerable with him too in return.
"I was young, can't have been more than 16. Neal was...older, I'm not sure how much - actually, how does Neverland affect aging anyway? I know you said you were like 300 years old but obviously you haven't aged - how old are you supposed to be? If you were actually as old as you look, I mean?"
Killian gives her a chiding look.
"If I recall correctly I'm a few years past 30. Bae wasn't in Neverland as long as I was, but I was also much older than him when I first arrived. I couldn't tell you what it might have been like to have those years of experience without the physical aging to accompany it so young, but don't think I don't know when you're deflecting, love."
Emma sighs and rolls her eyes, but she's smiling at him just a bit.
"Anyway, I found the bug one day and jimmied the lock and got it hotwired, and just as I'm about to drive off-"
"I'm sorry, the bug? What manner of insect did you...jimmy?" Killian interjects.
Emma laughs.
"My car - the, ah, infernal yellow contraption," she jokes, failing miserably at copying his accent. He growls playfully and reaches over to poke her in the ribs and discovers to his delight that she's ticklish. He exploits his new knowledge for a few minutes and succeeds in pulling a startled laugh out of Emma.
"Okay, okay, stop - you wanted to know the story, right?" she finally gasps out, batting his hand away.
"Aye," Killian concedes, raising his arms in surrender. He dips his head at her as if to say, "go on," and she picks up the story.
"So anyway, I get the car started and this guy pops up from the backseat and tells me he's impressed but I could have just asked me for the keys. So we start arguing and I'm trying to drive away but I'm not used to driving stick, so all of a sudden a cop comes out of nowhere and pulls us over."
Emma glances up to see Killian mouthing "driving stick" with an adorably befuddled expression and makes a mental note to teach him how to drive at some point. She gets momentarily distracted by the image of Captain Hook driving her mom's minivan and has to stifle a giggle. She must not be entirely successful because Killian narrows his eyes at her, but she shakes her head and keeps going.
"So the cop pulls us over and Neal climbs into the passenger seat and shoves the key in the ignition, and he starts telling the cop this story about how he's trying to teach his girlfriend how to drive stick, and the cop buys it and leaves us alone, but at that point I'm realizing that I just stole this guy's car and instead of turning me in he's covering for me, so I figure out it’s not his car, either."
She lets herself smile in reminiscence, just for a moment, before her thoughts turn to the rest of the story.
Her smile falls away.
"He admits it and asks me out and well, he's cute and he just covered for me so I say yes, and that's how it started. We started working together, pulling scams and pickpocketing, conning our way into motels and stuff when we wanted to shower or sleep in a real bed for the night and it was....good, for a while, the Bonnie and Clyde act. Eventually we started talking about maybe settling down somewhere, going legit."
She closes her eyes and swallows harshly, and Killian knows that this is where the story turns.
"Neal had stolen these fancy watches from some jewelry store he worked at before he met me," she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper. Killian remains silent - he has several questions (not the least wondering what or who exactly Bonnie and Clyde are) but he senses that Emma won't be able to get through this if he interrupts so he holds his tongue.
"They were expensive, and he'd been sloppy, so he'd stashed them in a train station locker and never went back for them. I only found out about them because we found a wanted poster with his face on it one day. And he starts going on about how he has to leave, go to Canada, run away from the heat, but I was young and dumb and in love, so I thought of a great plan," she says, her tone turning bitingly sarcastic.
"The wanted poster was for Neal, the authorities wouldn't be looking for me. So I could go and get them and then we could sell them and have enough money to settle down and go legit," she recalls bitterly. Killian has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going. He prays he's wrong.
"I got the watches without a problem," she says after a moment. "Got back to the car and showed them off and Neal takes out the prettiest one and gives it to me, says it's for insurance, so we have one last thing to pawn if the money runs out. And then he told me where to meet him and went to go fence the watches," she continues.
The pain in her voice breaks Killian's heart, and he leans forward to pull her into his arms. She freezes for a moment and he tenses, hoping he hasn't overstepped, but after a moment she relaxes into his hold, swinging her legs around so she's seated in his lap. They lean against the headboard like that for a few minutes in silence as Emma gathers the strength to finish her tale.
"That was the last time I saw him until I went to New York with Gold," she says softly, and Killian clenches his jaw so tight he fears for a moment he might crack his teeth. He's glad Emma's cheek is resting against his collarbone - it means she can't see the rage on his face and misinterpret it as being directed towards her.
"I showed up at the drop point and the cops were there, said someone had called in a tip," she recounts, a touch of incredulity creeping into her voice. Even after all these years and a shoddy explanation she still doesn't know why Neal didn't just leave. Now she never will.
"And you still had the watch he'd given you," Killian realizes with another wave of fury.
"Yeah." Emma huffs out a sad laugh. "It wasn't a very difficult case to prosecute. Eleven months in jail for a crime I didn't commit."
Killian looks down at her in confusion.
"Prison? But if Neal is Henry's father then when-"
Emma cuts him off.
"I didn't realize I was pregnant until a few weeks into my sentence. I gave birth to him in prison, handcuffed to the bed," she rasps out. Her voice breaks at the end and Killian holds her tighter.
Handcuffed to the bed? he wonders in horror. He admittedly doesn't know much about childbearing but from what he's heard being restrained in such a manner would be unbelievably cruel. He's so lost in his anger that he almost misses her heartbroken whisper.
"I wouldn't even look at him," she confesses. "He was crying and I looked away and refused to hold him."
He feels dampness on his chest and realizes with a start that Emma is crying. He holds her close and strokes her hair, not speaking but silently reassuring her that she's not alone. His heart aches for the pain Emma clearly still carries with her, and he vows to himself that he'll do everything in his power to help ease her burden.
They stay curled up like that for a while; Killian loses track of time as he soothes Emma and processes his anger at Bae's cowardice. It appears Bae had inherited much from his father, despite his determination to be different.
Part of him wants to know what could have possibly happened between Bae leaving the Jolly and him meeting Emma that could have turned him into the kind of man who'd abandon the woman he purported to love to take the fall for his misdeeds. He also wonders if he's missing something; Emma had seemed less confused about the abandonment than the framing, so he surmises there's more to the story.
The rest of him is pondering the King and Queen: from everything he's seen of them they're loving if occasionally overbearing parents, though he supposes he can't blame them for that given how little time they’ve had with either of their children. Still though, he can't reconcile the parents that clearly want to build a relationship with their daughter with the decision to name their son after a man who'd hurt their eldest so deeply.
“There’s something I still don’t understand, love,” he says. Emma glances up at him. “I can understand wanting to honor someone, but given your past with Neal, how did it not occur to your parents to ask if you’d be alright with it?” he asks. Emma stills, eyes darting away, and the explanation dawns on him.
“They don’t know, do they?”
Emma hesitates, then shakes her head. Killian doesn’t say anything in response, too overwhelmed by the fact that she’d chosen to open up to him in a way she hadn’t with her own parents.
She dozes off against his chest at some point. Killian feels warmth suffuse him at the trust she's showing him, both with her safety and her painful past. His mind wanders as she sleeps and he eventually drifts off himself.
Elsa's arrival and Ingrid's plot along with his own follies soon take over his thoughts, and he moves on to dwell on other matters. Neal doesn’t come up again as more than a passing mention until they’ve finally returned from the Underworld.
Killian has been home for a full two days simply relishing being alive and free of the Darkness when Emma brings it up. It's an offhand comment at first, really - he'd tentatively asked what the trip to the Underworld had been like, and she'd talked about the boat that had appeared in a cloud of fog, seemingly from nowhere, helmed by a hooded figure that hadn't spoken. She talks about how time had gone strange; when he asks, she says she has no idea how long they sailed before they reached the shores of the Underworld. She falls silent then, playing with her hair.
Killian can sense she's thinking about something and readjusts, pulling her further into his arms but content to wait. Finally, Emma speaks.
"I saw Neal," she says quietly. Killian tenses slightly but otherwise tries not to react.
"Oh?" he prompts. He feels Emma nod against his shoulder.
"On the boat. I had a - a dream, or a vision, I don't know. And Neal was there," she says. She sighs.
"He asked about Henry...and then he told me to give up."
She snorts.
"All this time and he still doesn't understand a thing about me. Like I'd ever give up on you," she murmurs, twisting to smile up at him. He squeezes her closer, closing his eyes against a rush of emotion. He feels her hand on his face and blinks his eyes open. Emma is watching him with an achingly soft look as her thumb caresses his cheek.
"I love you," he says roughly. Emma's smile broadens.
"I love you too," she says, and he has to close his eyes again. They sit in silence for a while just enjoying the closeness.
Emma's phone chimes, startling them out of the doze they'd slipped into. Emma fumbles for it, squinting at the light that seems too bright in the late-afternoon shadows. She huffs a laugh at whatever she sees and tilts the screen so he can see. It's a photo from David: baby Neal is fast asleep on top of Henry on the couch, also sleeping. Killian smiles a little, but he can feel it fall as he recalls the conversation they’d had about Neal when they first got together.
"Have you told your parents about Neal?" he asks before he can think better of it.
Emma freezes for a moment before she exhales slowly and shakes her head.
“I sort of told Mary Margaret once,” she says. “Way back before the curse broke. Henry asked me about his dad pretty soon after I arrived in town, and I made up some story for him about a firefighter,” she continues.
“He was so young, and he wanted to know about his dad, and I just - I couldn’t tell him the truth.”
She sighs again.
“I didn’t want to tell him the truth,” she admits softly.
Killian presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“Anyway, I told Mary Margaret about Henry asking, and I told her that the real story wasn’t exactly suitable for children. And maybe I didn’t give her all the gory details, but still,” she trails off, and it’s quiet for a few moments.
“I called them in New York, you know, when I found him again. I was falling apart and for once in my life I had people I could call so I did, because I wasn’t going to tell Henry the truth. I wanted him to keep believing the story about the fireman who died, because it’d be easier than dealing with the real story, and they told me Henry deserved the truth. And he did, I know he did, but…they didn’t ask. What the real story was, I mean. It didn’t occur to them, I guess? But they didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell them, and then things got complicated and I kept putting it off.”
Emma lapses into silence. Killian finds himself rather disappointed in their Majesties. He’d easily picked up on the tension between Emma and Neal in Neverland and he refuses to believe the King and Queen are so oblivious as to not have noticed it as well. But he’d (rather foolishly, evidently) assumed that they’d already heard about Emma’s history with Neal, and he says as much.
“I thought they knew,” Killian tells her. Emma twists around to look at him. “Your parents, I mean. Before we returned to the present,” he says. Emma smirks and opens her mouth, and he knows she’s about to make some reference he doesn’t understand so he quells her with a look and keeps talking.
“Before you told me, I assumed they knew. I could see that they were ah, less than enthusiastic about my pursuit of your affections, and they seemed more receptive to Neal, so I figured they had no objections to him. If I’d known that they didn’t have the full story, I…” he sighs as he trails off.
He'd been very aware that Emma's parents disapproved of him, both in general and as a potential romantic partner for their daughter. David had been very vocal about his disdain for Killian's profession and morals, though Snow White hadn't been particularly shy about her own feelings on the matter. He'd very easily picked up on their preference for Neal. Initially, he'd assumed they'd have supported anyone's suit of their daughter that gave Emma an option that wasn’t him; he'd assumed as well that Neal being Henry's father was just a bonus.
However, that assumption had been predicated on the idea that they knew the particulars of Emma and Neal's separation. Indeed, it was part of why he had felt compelled to make his concession to Neal about backing off and letting him and Emma have a chance: if her parents approved then surely whatever had transpired between them was an obstacle they could overcome, and eventually Emma might welcome Neal's renewed interest.
Now, he feels out of sorts. He doesn't regret offering to step aside, exactly. He'd broken up Bae's family once, albeit unintentionally, and he hadn't wanted to do it again, no matter that the situations weren't really comparable. But knowing what he knows now, he wishes...he doesn't know what he wishes; that the world had been a little kinder to all of them, perhaps.
Killian shakes his head and refocuses on Emma.
“I’m sorry, love, that they didn’t take the time to ask.”
Emma gives him a sad half-smile and he presses a kiss to her head.
It’s almost two years later when Henry tells Emma seriously over dinner one night that he thinks he’s old enough to get the full story about his parents.
Emma freezes, darting a helpless glance at Killian. He smiles gently at her and dips his head encouragingly.
She takes a deep breath before nodding. "You're right, kid. After dinner I'll tell you about me and your dad."
They finish dinner and clear away the plates. Emma lingers over making cocoa with a sort of nervous energy that makes Killian ache. She takes the mugs over to the couch and gestures for Henry to join her, handing him his cocoa.
Killian hovers, torn between offering his support and letting mother and son have some privacy for the difficult conversation ahead. Emma reaches up and squeezes his hand with a small smile and he nods back at her.
“I’ll go take a shower, love, give you two some time,” he murmurs. Emma flashes one last smile at him before turning back to Henry.
As he makes his way upstairs he hears her say, "I'm sorry, kid. This isn't a happy story. But you're right, you deserve to know."
He takes a long shower. Indoor plumbing may not be magic by the standards he’s used to measuring with, but it is certainly magical. It’s one of his favorite things about his adopted home and long showers have become something of a vice over the years.
He can still hear Emma and Henry talking when he gets out, so he dries off and climbs into bed, picking up the latest book Belle recommended.
He reads for a while but must drift off at some point; he’s roused by Emma closing the bedroom door and padding across the floor to the bed. He fumbles for his bookmark and sets the book on the nightstand, then opens his arms for her to crawl into.
Emma settles herself against his chest. He runs his hand down her back and she exhales, relaxing further. He wants to ask how it went, but Emma has dried tear tracks on her face, and he can be patient, so he lets it rest.
“Sleep, love,” he whispers into her hair. He feels Emma press a kiss to his chest before he drifts off again.
Emma tells him about it in the morning over coffee. Henry stumbles downstairs an hour or so later than usual, still looking a little shell-shocked. Emma and Killian exchange looks over his head and Killian silently resolves to keep an eye on him. Emma calls Regina after Henry goes to school and lets her know Henry’s dealing with some difficult revelations about his father and Killian thanks his lucky stars that Regina doesn’t pry.
They spend the next few days growing increasingly worried about Henry, who seems to be wandering around town in a fog. Killian tries to restrain his instinctive fear and anger when he hears Henry has been spending time with Gold at his shop and focuses on being there for Emma.
He does his best to be there for Henry as well, taking him sailing and giving him more advanced swordplay lessons.
They’re catching their breath mid-spar one day when Henry finally breaks his silence.
"How do you do it?" he asks. Killian tilts his head.
"How do you remember Neal so fondly when you know what he did to my mom? How do you not hate him for that?" Henry asks, beginning to pace the deck.
Killian straightens and moves closer to him.
"Because he's my dad, and I love him, but I didn't really know him and now I kind of hate him too. He just betrayed Mom and abandoned her like it was nothing!" Henry finishes with a shout.
"I do, some days," Killian admits. "Hate him, for what he did to your mother. The way she grew up wasn't easy, and it made it hard for her to trust, but what he did to her-" he breaks off, shaking his head with a grimace. He can still hear the pain in Emma’s voice as she told him about the set-up.
"Grandma and Grandpa don't know, do they?" Henry realizes.
Killian winces. "No, they don't. Emma was planning on telling them eventually, but..."
"But then they named my uncle after him, and she felt like she couldn't ruin the image of him as a hero," Henry finishes for him, spitting out the last word.
Henry’s tone startles him, and his face must betray his surprise because he goes on.
"Everyone remembers him as this great hero who sacrificed himself for us, but he wasn't! A hero wouldn't do something like that, wouldn't just leave her to take the fall and then not even look for her later."
Henry sounds impossibly young, and it makes Killian’s heart ache. He takes a moment to think before speaking carefully.
"I think, lad, that it's easy in this town to get caught up in our notion of what a hero should be, and what a villain is. But it's not that simple. Your mother taught me that. Liam was my hero for centuries, even when I thought he'd despise me for what I'd become. But he was flawed and made choices that had consequences. Your grandparents did as well. But they all tried to do the right thing and help where they could.
I thought I was too far gone to change, but since I met your mother I've been inspired to try to be the man I want to be, a better man. Neal did die a hero, Henry. He may not have been one his whole life, and he may have hurt people, but he loved you, and he died to help protect you. That's how your mother chooses to remember him, and why she let your grandparents remember him that way as well."
"And you?" Henry asks.
Killian sighs, tracing his fingers over the carved wood and remembering the young boy he’d taught to sail. He sees so much of Bae in Henry, in his looks and his passion and his creativity. He worries about the role he played in hardening Bae’s heart, and he feels guilty that he gets to raise his son in his stead.
"I cared for him as a boy, and while as a man he made mistakes, he tried to do what he thought was the right thing. I can respect that, and I can respect that he loved his son fiercely. I've tried to make my peace with the boy and the man,” he says after a moment.
Henry ponders that for a while. "I think I need to think about it more," he says slowly. Killian regards him silently then nods.
"Do what you need to do, lad. Your mother and I - not to mention Regina and your grandparents - are here for you. Now, back to your footwork?" Killian asks, changing the subject. Henry nods and shifts his feet. Killian lunges, Henry parries, and they’re off.
That’s not the end of it, of course. He and Henry have several more conversations about loving people who have done terrible things, and he knows he’s had similar discussions with Emma.
But Killian thinks that maybe talking with Henry has helped him as much as the lad, and he feels more at peace with his own relationship with Bae.
Life goes on.
Henry’s sword-fighting lessons are coming along nicely, as are his lessons with August. Killian can tell he’s starting to chafe at the limitations being stuck in Storybrooke imposes on him, and he knows that Henry will want to make his own way before long.
The other children of Storybrooke are also starting to grow up: Alexandra is in school now, and young Neal will be following her soon. He’s a frequent guest at their house now, coming over for sleepovers when Snow and David want some time to themselves. Snow has started making unsubtle hints about him and Emma practicing for their own child someday.
Killian has mixed feelings about fatherhood, and he knows Emma is equally conflicted about having another child. Perhaps one day they’ll have that conversation, but not yet. For now, they’re happy to babysit and watch Neal grow up.
A few weeks after one such evening, David and Snow invite Emma to the park with them. He hears Emma attempt to decline the invitation but her parents must convince her because she pokes her head into the study to let him know she’s heading out for a few hours and to eat lunch without her.
She comes home several hours later with red eyes and dried tear tracks on her cheeks and Killian is instantly on guard.
“Love? Are you alright, what happened? Is everyone okay?” he asks, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
She tries to smile at him but it comes out pained.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” she assures him, her hand coming up to cover his on her face.
“Swan, you were crying, I hardly call that alright,” he chides.
The corner of Emma’s mouth twitches up into a smile.
“I, uh, I told my dad about Neal,” she murmurs, and Killian stills.
“Oh?” he asks. He has a lot of questions but he doesn’t want to push too hard.
“The whole trip to the park was so they could talk to me about the year I was in New York, and that was nice, I guess,” she says. “But then he asked about the - well, he asked me why I don’t use Neal’s name.” Killian nods.
He’d noticed several years ago that Emma avoided using the little prince’s name but had never commented, figuring that she had plenty of reasons to distance herself from it. He’s not sure if he’s impressed David also picked up on it or irritated it took him so long to notice his daughter’s discomfort.
“And what did you tell him?” he prompts.
“I - well, I sort of let him have it,” she admits sheepishly. “I told him they’d never asked if I’d be okay having my little brother named after my ex, and he said they wanted to honor his sacrifice and heroism, and I may have scoffed a little, and the whole thing sort of…spilled out,” she finishes with a shrug.
“How’d he take it?”
“Okay, I think? He was really pissed when he realized how young I was when I had Henry,” she says.
“What do you mean, when he realized ?” he exclaims before he can stop himself.
“I guess he and mom never did the math,” she replies with a shrug. Killian does his best to school his face. He’ll never cease to be baffled by the way people who love their daughter and are as well-intentioned as Snow and David are can continue to hurt her as much as they have.
Instead of giving voice to his thoughts he pulls Emma into his arms and presses a kiss to her hair. He feels her relax against him and rests his cheek on her head. They stand like that for a few minutes before he pulls away.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower, love? I’ll get dinner ready,” he says. She smiles at him.
“That’d be great, thanks,” she replies, then heads upstairs. Killian sighs once she’s gone and shakes his head.
He’s grown to care deeply about their Majesties despite their less-than-stellar beginnings, and he knows he’s grown on them as well, but sometimes he can’t help but despair at how consistently they make a hash of things with Emma.
They’re cleaning up from dinner that evening when there’s a knock on the door. Emma goes to answer it and he hears David’s voice, so he stays in the kitchen to finish drying the dishes.
Killian does his best not to eavesdrop as they talk in the living room, but the floor plan of the house means he can hear most of their conversation.
He dawdles for a while to give them more time without interruption. He smiles when he hears laughter coming from the other room and relaxes. Emma had been quiet during dinner, still processing the emotionally intense day. He’s glad to hear her sounding happier.
Emma walks David out and he joins her at the door. He wraps an arm around her waist and she leans into him as they watch David pull out of the driveway and head home. They close the door and finish cleaning up in comfortable silence, then go upstairs to get ready for bed.
They crawl into bed and Emma cuddles up against his side, one hand scratching idly through his chest hair. He traces circles on her shoulder.
“He apologized,” Emma mumbles after a few moments.
“Hm?” Killian asks, looking down at her.
“My dad,” she clarifies. “That’s why he came over. He apologized at the park today too, but I guess it was still bothering him so he came over to do it again.”
Kilian refrains from voicing what he’s thinking, namely that David most certainly ought to still be bothered by Emma’s revelations.
Emma sighs.
“I don’t think I realized how much I needed to hear him say it,” she admits quietly, and Killian pulls her closer.
“You deserved to hear it, love. You deserve to hear apologies when someone hurts you, no matter how unintentional,” he says, his mind casting back to his own failures with Emma.
She presses a kiss to his chest but doesn’t say anything else and he soon hears her breathing even out. Killian stays awake a while longer, ruminating on mistakes and how easy it is to hurt the people you love.
Emma all but bounces out of bed in the morning, dancing around the kitchen and chattering away about her plans for the day.
Killian watches her over the rim of his tea with a smile, but only contributes when directly addressed.
He can’t quite shake his displeasure with David and Snow. Killian does his best not to let it affect his interactions with them, and he mostly succeeds. He brushes off his impatience with David as a lack of sleep and his avoidance of Snow on the ever-evolving crises besieging Storybrooke, though luckily these days those crises are of a far more mundane variety.
He gets away with it for a little over a week: David is mostly taking the night shift at the station to give Emma a break (and assuage his guilty conscience, Killian thinks to himself rather snidely) while Snow is busy preparing for the end of the school year. Killian himself has been busy at the docks and training Henry, so they don’t cross paths for several days. Eventually, however, an invitation is issued for family dinner at the farm, and he can’t think of a plausible reason not to attend.
Dinner is awkward. Killian knows he’s acting strangely: he's barely participating in the conversation and responding tersely whenever Snow or David tries to engage him. It’s almost like before they’d accepted him, before he’d decided to change sides for good, and he hates it but he can’t help it, can’t help picturing Emma’s face all those years ago when she told him what they’d named the babe.
Emma keeps shooting him looks trying to figure out what’s going on in his head, and Snow and David look increasingly nonplussed as the night goes on. Henry is either blissfully unaware of the tension, or he’s ignoring it in favor of playing with his uncle.
He knows Emma will want to interrogate him the minute they’re alone so he brings it up before she can, apologizing and promising he’ll speak with her parents in the morning. Emma watches him for a moment before accepting it, and he makes a point to kiss her goodbye before heading back to the farm in the morning.
David looks surprised when he opens the door to see him standing there but ushers him inside all the same.
Killian fidgets while David putters around the kitchen, remaining silent until Snow joins them with a confused “Killian! This is a surprise.”
He wraps his hand around the mug David presses on him and sips at the hot tea for want of something to do, and he sees Snow and David glance at each other. Several minutes tick by before David breaks the silence.
“Okay seriously, did we do something? Because you’ve been acting weird.”
Killian winces and sets his mug down on the counter.
“Ah, yes, about that,” he says, scratching at his ear. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at dinner last night. It was unacceptable.”
Snow and David glance at each other again before turning back to him. In the past, their proclivity for silent conversations had irritated him - it had seemed saccharine and grating. Now he knows he and Emma do the same thing and he has no right to pass judgment.
“Do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Snow ventures. Killian braces himself then speaks.
“Emma told me about your conversation at the park,” he says.
Snow stills and David shifts on his feet.
“Emma told you about that?” Snow asks. Killian nods. “And - about the other thing? About Neal?” she presses. Killian purses his lips but nods again.
“Aye,” he says. “I asked her about Neal several years ago,” he tells them, and he catches the way they both flinch at his words. A small, vicious part of him revels in it, but he stamps it down, ashamed.
“I suppose we should thank you,” David says. There’s a complicated expression on his face.
Killian frowns. “For what?”
“Being there for Emma, when we weren’t,” Snow explains when David says nothing. “We should have asked, and we didn’t.”
Killian nods, accepting this. He wants to leave it at that.
“Why didn’t you ask her about it?” he demands instead, trying and failing to moderate his tone.
Killian Jones has never let something lie a day in his life.
Snow and David look taken aback, and he desperately tries to rein in his hostility.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…trying to understand,” he says.
“We thought they’d lost touch,” David volunteers. “You know what it was like in our realm - we thought maybe they got separated, couldn’t find each other.”
“And Emma never said anything,” Snow adds, staring at him imploringly. “We thought - well, we assumed she’d tell us if it was something bad.”
Killian exerts an enormous amount of willpower to keep the incredulity off his face but doesn’t quite succeed in keeping it out of his tone.
“You thought Emma would simply tell you about a painful part of her past?” he asks.
A minute passes in awkward silence.
“In retrospect, that may have been naive,” David concedes. Killian loses his fight to school his face. He feels his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline, and David winces.
“Is it so ridiculous that we trusted our daughter to talk to us?” Snow interjects.
“It is when your daughter is Emma!” he shouts before he can bite his tongue. He grimaces.
“I apologize, truly, I’m not trying to argue with you,” he grits out.
“It’s okay,” Snow replies with a rueful smile. “You’re right, Killian. We should have asked, but we didn’t. All we can do now is try to be better.”
Killian sighs.
“Aye, that we can,” he agrees. “Apologies again, your Majesties, for dinner. And for yelling at you now.”
“It’s okay, Killian,” Snow repeats. “You were just looking out for Emma. We can hardly fault you for that.”
He flashes them a smile and excuses himself. He’s so lost in thought he’s surprised when he realizes he’s already made it home.
He lets himself in, listening for any sign that Emma’s home. The house is quiet so he assumes she’s already left for the sheriff’s station.
He spends the rest of the day working on various projects around the house and running errands. He even braves the grocery store without Emma, and though it pains him to do so he forces himself to purchase some of the pop tarts she loves so much.
He’s just finishing putting dinner together when she arrives home, calling out a hello over the sound of her boots hitting the molding. He cringes at the noise and the inevitable mess but greets her happily nonetheless.
“How was your day, love?” he asks as she enters the kitchen. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head against his back, and he takes a moment to squeeze her hands where they’re wrapped around his middle.
“It was fine, Leroy only called once to complain so I’m taking it as a win,” she mumbles into his back.
Killian snorts. He turns off the stove and turns so he can wrap Emma in his arms. They stand there until the timer beeps and Killian pulls the fish out of the oven. Emma sets the table while he finishes preparing the food.
“So,” Emma says once they’re seated. “Are you going to tell me what was really going on with you last night?”
Killian scratches his ear. “Aye, love. I was - well, to be honest, I was rather upset with your parents.”
“I couldn’t tell,” she replies drily, and his lips twitch. “You want to tell me why?” she prods.
“You told me about your conversation with them and I couldn’t help but be frustrated by how much they hurt you,” he admits. Emma reaches across the table to squeeze his hand.
“Killian,” she chides. “They were doing their best, and we sorted things out, more or less.”
“I know, love, and I apologized. Twice, as a matter of fact. I just couldn’t help it - I’ll never be able to see someone who’s hurt you and not react,” he says firmly.
Emma smiles tremulously at him and he can see a sheen in her eyes even across the table.
“I love you,” she tells him, and he softens.
“I love you, too, Swan,” he replies.
The rest of the meal is subdued but the silence isn’t heavy. Emma heads upstairs once they’ve finished cleaning up and he lingers, tidying the living room and turning off the lights. He straightens the rug near the fireplace and recalls his foolish attempt to conceal his past misdeeds and cringes. For all that he’d castigated Emma’s parents for their failures with their daughter, he has certainly made plenty of his own.
As he finally goes upstairs himself he remembers Snow’s words from before he’d left the farmhouse that morning. The past is what it is - all he can do is try to be better moving forward. Maybe, he thinks as he slides into bed, it’s time for him and Emma to put some of their shared demons to rest as well. Emma rolls towards him and settles her head on his chest, right over his heart. He wraps his arm around her and falls asleep, content.
