Hope's Life Story

CS Genre: 7a deleted scene

All was quiet and still, finally, in the hospital when Killian reached into the bassinet and gently picked up his sleeping daughter. Hope Swan-Jones, born four hours ago after eight hours and fifteen minutes of labor and struggle. Eight hours and fifteen minutes where Killian felt as helpless as he'd ever felt. Seeing Swan in pain, in that much exertion and being able to do absolutely nothing about it had been agony. Dr. Whale had told Emma she could try something called an "epidural" to dull the pain, but she'd refused, insisting she didn't know how it would react to her magic and she refused to put the little one in danger.

And so she'd soldiered on, bringing their miracle into the world with the strength and courage of the fiercest warrior. Killian had never been prouder of his amazing wife.

Hope made a tiny sound as Killian sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Swan's bed and set the baby against his chest, skin to skin. The little one burrowed in, tiny arms and legs tucked close to her equally tiny body. Killian placed her pink and white receiving blanket over top of her and began rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back before placing a gentle kiss on her downy head.

"Papa's got you, Cygnet," he murmured, careful to be quiet so as not to wake Emma. "You're safe and warm. Papa will never let anything hurt you."

Hope sighed softly in her sleep, and Killian felt the tears prick his eyes once more. He'd been more emotional today than he'd been in years, maybe in centuries. There were no words adequate to describe the joy and the rush of love that hit him the moment his tiny daughter was first placed in his arms.

"Do you know how long we waited and wished for you, little love?" Killian murmured. "Months and months your mother and I wished for a child and it didn't happen. We were near to giving up, when finally, finally we learned you were on your way. I'll never forget that day…

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The Test

Your mother had the day off that day. Your grandpa—you'll meet him in the morning; he can't wait to see you, little one—and I had insisted she take some time for herself; she'd worked an entire week straight, and it seemed there was no end in sight had Dave and I not stepped in.

Something was bothering her, that much was clear. We could all see it, her parents, me, even a few of the dwarfs. She was quiet, withdrawn, worried. Your mother has a tendency to hold things in when she's concerned. She's gotten better at sharing her burdens, but there's something I hope you'll never have occasion to learn, my little love. Wounds made in childhood linger and leave lasting scars. I'd learned long ago that it's best to give your mother space to work things out, let her know that I am there to help her, but let her share her burdens in her own time.

So that day, your grandfather and I handled the nuisance calls throughout Storybrooke while your mother took a much deserved break.

After the long, rather uneventful day at the station, I returned home, but I'd scarcely crossed the threshold before I heard it—sobbing coming from the floor above. I took the stairs, two at a time, terrified of what I might find. Your mother is the strongest woman I've ever met. What could have befallen her to make her cry so?

I found her seated upon the floor of our in suite bathroom, propped against the tub. She held one of those pregnancy wands in her hand and was looking down upon it, the tears streaming from her lovely eyes. My heart sank. I knew what it was that distressed your mother so. She'd used many, many of these wands in the past when she'd thought, hoped, she might be with child, and I'd been with her each time as the blasted thing mocked her with its stark display of 'not pregnant'. Every time I'd held her in my arms, and we'd cried together, reassuring each other that one day our child would come. We must simply be patient.

But this time, for whatever reason, she'd chosen to undergo the test alone. My heart ached for my Swan. Quickly, I sat beside her, taking her into my arms and running a soothing hand up and down her back.

'I'm sorry I didn't wait for you,' she said in a watery voice, her tears still coming hard and fast. 'It's just that we've had so many disappointments. I couldn't stand to disappoint you again if this one was negative too. I almost didn't even take this one myself, but you know,' she'd shrugged, 'my stomach has been off and there were those two times I got lightheaded last week, and I don't know. I just had to know.'

'Sh, my love', I reassured her, leaning over to kiss the top of her head, 'you've no need to bear these things alone. I'm sorry I was not here to help you through this. It's a great disappointment, I know, but we've time yet, perhaps next month…'

She interrupted my comforting speech by sitting up abruptly, her eyes widening, before a small chuckle escaped her rosy lips.

'Disappointment?' she said, broad smile covering her face. 'Killian have you looked at the pregnancy test?'

My brows furrowed. 'No,' I said slowly. 'I merely saw you crying and inferred we'd gotten bad news yet again.'

She shook her head, thrusting the test toward me. 'Not this time, Babe. This time it's finally happened.'

I looked down at the small wand in her hand, and my heart started racing as I saw 'pregnant' emblazoned clear as day upon its display.

'Are you certain, love?' I said, emotion clouding my voice. 'Are you certain this test is accurate?'

She nodded her head vigorously, pointing to three other tests lined up neatly on the sill of the bathtub, every one proudly confirming what the one in her hand stated. 'I'm absolutely sure, Killian," she said. 'I took the first one, and it came up positive. I was afraid to believe it so I went back to the pharmacy and bought three more. All of them are positive. Babe, this is happening! We're having a baby!"

Hope, darling, I was so happy to learn that you were on the way that I feared I would burst right there on the linoleum of our bathroom floor. I gathered your mother into my arms and hugged her, laughing and crying with her before kissing her until we both were breathless. You, my little love, were the miracle we'd been waiting for for years.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Baby's First Journey

Your early weeks were not easy on your mother, Cygnet. You made her quite ill, not that she blamed you for it, of course. Days on end of constant nausea and light-headedness. I was quite beside myself. I love your mother more than anything in the realms, and it's torture to see someone you love suffering so. I suppose I hovered too much, was too concerned about her health, and I suspect if your mother were feeling herself, she would have had my head for it.

But as it was, she was ill enough that she actually agreed when your grandfather and I insisted she take a leave from work until she felt more herself. That, more than anything concerned me. You're mother's one of the strongest people I know, and if she is willing to be sidelined, she must feel extremely poorly.

Perhaps it was the prospect of seeing your brother again that finally turned the tide on what your mother called 'morning sickness', although I find that rather a misnomer. Her illness was most certainly not relegated only to the morning. It was a constant battle for the first three months of your existence.

At any rate, one delightful fall afternoon, I received a message in a bottle from your brother, Henry. He had gotten himself in quite a scrape in the alternate Enchanted Forest in which he found himself. He'd not only been captured by the evil Lady Tremaine, but he ran the real threat of being executed by her equally nasty daughter. Henry called for the help of your mother, Regina and myself.

Your mother, of course, wished to answer the summons herself, but I convinced her to remain behind. No sense risking herself or you for a job that his other mother and I were perfectly capable of handling.

Oh, Darling, don't fuss! This story has a happy ending. The queen and I managed to arrive just in the nick of time, and we were able to rescue your brother—albeit with a slight interruption from-your uncle is it? I've no clue how one is to refer to the alternate universe version of himself. The other Hook attempted to take my place, to share True Love's Kiss with your mother and break a curse.

I was quite furious at first, of course, called him a bas—well, a word that is not fit for such delicate ears as yours. Later, though, I learned that he was simply desperate to be reunited with his daughter. Now that I have you, my Hope, I understand the wish to do anything, anything for your child.

But I digress. This is meant to be the story of your life, after all. As it happens, no sooner had Regina and I left, but your mother began to be antsy. She'd been feeling much better all day, and the prospect of staying behind while her eldest child was in danger was thoroughly noxious to her. She managed to remain here in Storybrooke for a couple hours, but as her anxiety mounted, she decided she simply must join us, even if it was just to lend magical support from a distance.

And so, she obtained a magic bean from Tiny and traveled to the realm in which we had just effected our daring rescue of your brother. Your father's former swashbuckling days do come in handy from time to time. She greeted your brother warmly, and he was so happy to hear of your imminent arrival.

It was your first journey, little love, but it will by no means be your last. You'll no doubt go on many, many adventures of your own as you grow and spread your delicate wings.

As I said, the journey to visit your brother seemed to be a bit of a turning point for your mother. Her 'morning' sickness cleared up almost as though by magic. After that, it was, of course, harder to convince your mother not to overdo it. I quite annoyed her with my fussing over her well-being and comfort.

'Killian, I am perfectly capable of taking the throw pillows off of our bed,' she said to me with a scowl one night as we prepared for sleep. 'I'm pregnant, not an invalid.'

'I'm well aware, Love,' I reassured with a gentle kiss to her cheek. 'It's just that you were so sick before. I worry about you and the babe. You both are my whole world. If something were to happen to you…'

Your mother softened at that. She cupped my cheeks and kissed me softly before resting her forehead against my own.

'You don't need to worry about me, Killian,' she said. 'I'm a survivor.'

Can you believe that, little love? Throwing my own words against me!

'Aye', I said, still feeling the worry nag at me, 'that's what I said only months before I died…twice.'

A shadow passed over her face at the thought, and I immediately regretted my words. Your mother still feels the guilt and the agony over that time in our lives from time to time. I pulled her into my arms then, feeling the slight swell of her belly where you lay against my abdomen. 'I apologize, Swan. I know I've hovered too much. I've been too much of a mother hen."

'It's alright, Killian' your mother said. 'It actually feels kind of nice to have someone who cares about me enough to worry about me. Just maybe let up a little? I promise not to overexert myself. If I feel tired or sick I'll rest. Deal?'

I nodded then. 'We have an accord. I know just the way we should seal the deal.'

But never mind that, Cygnet. That is a topic for when you're much, much older.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Cravings

With the morning sickness gone, your mother plunged head-first into another common symptom of pregnancy—cravings. They say pregnant women often have the desire for the most bizarre, outlandish and even noxious combinations of foods, but I must say your mother's tastes actually improved quite a bit.

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I've always risen before your mother in the mornings. A habit left over from my days in the navy, no doubt. In our married life, your mother and I had fallen into a bit of a morning routine. I rise with the sun, take care of my morning ablutions, and then retire to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for your mother and myself. When she was so ill with the morning sickness, our routine further evolved to me bringing your mother breakfast—typically a cup of decaffeinated coffee and a package of those Pop Tarts of which she's so fond.

On this particular day, though, something changed. I brought up her—rather disgusting, I must say—pastries as normal, and she took one look at them and turned green.

'Killian, I don't know what's wrong with me today,' she said, 'but I can't even stand the smell of those things! I love you for bringing me breakfast, but could you please throw those away?'

I complied and then quickly returned to our bedroom. 'Swan you must eat breakfast. You know you'll be nauseated if you don't get something in your stomach.'

'Yeah, I know,' she said. 'I hate to ask it, but there is one thing I'm kind of craving today…'

'Aye?' I asked.

Your mother huffed a frustrated sigh. 'Killian, this is your baby through and through. I can't believe I'm saying this, but the baby is demanding boiled mackerel and grapefruit.'

I laughed quite heartily at that before stooping down to place a quick kiss against your mother's belly. 'You have excellent taste, my Cygnet.'

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Baby's First Movie

And so the months passed. Your mother felt quite well during her second trimester with you. She told me that it was the 'sweet spot' of pregnancy. Her morning sickness had passed, and she was not yet so large as to be uncomfortable.

The most miraculous moment of your life—at least until your birth—for me came during your twenty-eighth week of existence. Your mother received something that was called a '4D ultrasound'. Little love, let me tell you. They may say there's no magic in this world, but that ultrasound was as close to magic as you could come.

A week before your mother's appointment, we lay together in bed discussing options for your name, when suddenly your mother grimaced.

I was immediately on alert, of course. 'What is it Swan? Is something wrong with you or the little one?'

She smiled at me, running a soothing hand through my hair. 'Nothing a few more months won't fix,' she said. 'It's just that this little one seems to want to kick the crap out of me every night when I try to lay down to sleep.'

'She's active tonight is she?' I asked. We'd discovered at a previous ultrasound that you were indeed a little lass.

'Here,' your mother said, taking my hand and placing it against her swollen belly. 'Feel for yourself.'

And feel it I did. Such kicks and punches as you delivered! It wasn't comfortable for your mother, but I was delighted. That was my child, my wee daughter, and I could actually feel her movements.

'It is amazing,' I said. 'I can't wait until I'm able to see the little one rather than just imagining her there inside of you.'

'Well,' Emma said, 'that day might come sooner than you think. Remember I told you I have an appointment next week?'

'Aye,' I said, 'I believe you mentioned you are to undergo another one of those ultrascans.'

'Ultrasound,' your mother corrected absently, reaching over to thread her fingers through mine and direct my hand to the place where you were kicking furiously.

'Aye,' I said again. 'And I was quite amazed at the ability to see the wee one through those pictures, but they're quite grainy and indistinct.'

'Well the one I'm having next week is different,' your mother said. 'It's called a 4D ultrasound, and the picture is supposed to be amazing. We'll actually be able to see our little one.'

And your mother was right. I watched the screen in rapt fascination as the technician waved the wand across your mother's belly. The image it produced was nothing less than extraordinary. You were so tiny yet, but so, so perfect. Wee fingers, wee toes, even your wee facial expressions were plain to be seen. I watched as you blinked, opened and closed your mouth, cried, even sucked your thumb.

Your mother and older brother have introduced me to many, many moving pictures through the years, but there is no contest. The moving picture I love the very most is that 4D scan where I got to see you, really see you for the first time. The doctor allowed us to take a copy of it home on one of those small round disks you put in a moving picture player, and I've lost count of the number of times I've viewed it since then.

I loved you long, long before you were born, little Cygnet, and I promise you, I will love you until my dying breath and beyond, no matter what.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Nesting

As your big day approached, little love, I couldn't help but notice your mother becoming more and more concerned about our preparation for your arrival.

"Killian, we have to get the nursery ready! I'm thirty-eight weeks along. I could pop at any moment!"

We had chosen a nautical theme for your nursery. The walls were a gentle blue, matching the color of my eyes, your mother pointed out. I painted a mural of the Jolly Roger upon one wall, and together we found the perfect baby pirate themed mobile for above your crib.

As the days passed, the nursery filled more and more with all the necessary—and even unnecessary items a baby might need—crib, changing table, bureau with tiny baby clothing. We even had something called a bloody "diaper genie". You can imagine my disappointment when I learned the item did not change diapers for the parents when you wished upon it.

The little toy bins and cubicles your grandmother helped set up filled up more and more every day with everything from teething rings to wooden blocks to board books about pirates. Your aunty Zelena even gifted you with a stuffed crocodile. She believes she is far more humorous than she actually is.

With every baby shower and baby gift we received, our preparations for your arrival seemed more and more complete.

But one day, just last week, I returned home from a visit to the Jolly to find your mother sitting in the rocking chair of your nursery crying as though her heart were broken. I rushed to her side, dropped to my knees before her.

"Swan!" I said, "What is amiss, love? Is it your time? Have your pains begun? Why didn't you call me?"

Your mother was quick to shake her head, smiling sadly a quick chuckle leaving her lovely lips. She reached up to swipe at her streaming eyes, and then cupped my face. "No, Killian. Nothing like that. I feel fine, and the kid seems happy to just stay put for the moment."

"Then what troubles you so?" I asked.

"Look at this place," she said, waving her hand around the nursery. "We've got all the essentials, even toys, but what about a teddy bear? Killian we don't have a teddy bear for our baby!"

I must admit, Cygnet, that I found the impassioned speech more than a little confusing. "It's true, love," I said slowly. "It's one plaything we've yet to buy or receive, but the little lass won't be playing with any of her toys for some time yet, if the books I read on infant development are to be believed."

"But that's not the point!" your mother said, getting up and pacing—more like waddling, although you must promise to never tell her I said that—around the room.

"Alright," I said again patiently, "what is the point?"

Abruptly your mother stopped, looked at me, and seemed to deflate. Sitting back upon the chair, she lowered her head and began picking at her maternity top.

"Killian, I don't know what I'm doing," she said, her voice quivering again. "What do I know about being a mother? I don't even know what a mother is supposed to do, because I never had one. I just…I just want to give this kid everything we didn't have growing up. I want her to know how loved she is and how wanted, and I don't ever want her to feel deprived of anything."

Suddenly it all made sense. You see, Hope, your mother and I had rather difficult upbringings. They left wounds, wounds that took such a long time to heal, some wounds that might never fully do more than scab over. We both love you so very much that we want to spare you from all of that. If we could, we'd shield you from every moment of pain and loneliness and heartache you will ever come in contact with.

At any rate, I was quick to take your mother into my arms after that, rubbing a soothing hand across her back as I let her cry.

"Swan, you have no need to fear that," I murmured. "You will be a bloody fantastic mother. You already are a bloody fantastic mother."

"I hope you're right," she said, "but Killian, what if we make a mistake? What if we do something wrong and screw this kid up?"

I chuckled at that. "Oh, I daresay we'll make a good number of mistakes, but as to screwing the kid up, as you put it, impossible. Swan we both love her more than our own lives. She'll know from the moment she's born that she's loved and cared for and that she'll never be alone. That's the most important thing. She'll have all she needs and a family, an entire town, to love her. She'll have what we never had growing up—hope."

Your mother kissed me then, finally showing a true smile. "You know, every day I think I couldn't possibly love you more, and then you prove me wrong."

I kissed her back. "Likewise, darling."

We remained deep in thought for a moment or two, and then your mother perked up again. "Hey," she said, "I think you might have just hit on the perfect name. She's our hope for the future, our hope for a better life than we had, the next phase of our happy beginning. How about we name her Hope?"

And darling, I couldn't possibly have thought of a better name for you.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The birth

And that, Hope, brings us to today, the day you finally decided to come out and greet us face to face.

I'd tried for such a long time to convince your mother to start her maternity leave, after all she was very pregnant. She needed her rest, but as you'll soon learn about your mother, when she puts her mind to something, there's very little that can change it.

'Don't be ridiculous, Killian,' your mother said, 'Look, I'll take a good three months at least after the baby's born, but I don't want to stick you and my dad with all the work any sooner than I have to.'

'All what work?' I said, and I do admit to a bit of exasperation in my voice. 'Swan, ever since you defeated the Black Fairy, there's been little more serious than parking violations in this town. Your father and I will easily be able to handle the workload. We're both eager to do so. Nothing is more important than your health and the health of wee Hope.'

'But it's like you just said,' she said, 'There's nothing dangerous or strenuous going on around here. I can sit in the office and file reports or sit in the police cruiser patrolling the town just as well as I can sit on the couch at home. I promise I'll let you and my dad handle it if anything more physically taxing comes up, but I can't just sit at home and wait. I'll go crazy.'

I sighed, knowing any further complaints were fruitless.

And so it was that your mother and I came to work together this morning. I knew from the get go that something was off with your mother today. She'd been complaining about pains in her back throughout the night. I found it a bit concerning, but she positively reassured me that she was fine.

What she failed to tell me is that she'd been having minor labor pains at irregular intervals ever since dinner the night before. Had I known, I likely would have rushed her to the hospital right away. Perhaps that is why she didn't tell me.

At any rate, around noon, after a quick bite to eat at Granny's—your mother had her characteristic grilled cheese and onion rings—we went on a quick patrol of the town.

'So Killian, I was thinking, maybe we should have a naming ceremony for—Aaahh!'

She doubled over in pain for a moment, breathed deeply, and then relaxed.

'Swan!' I was immediately on high alert. 'That was a contraction!'

'Yeah,' she said, looking a bit sheepish, 'look, don't freak out, but I've been having them for a while.'

'WHAT?!'

'I said don't freak out! It's not a big deal. They're still like eight or nine minutes apart. We've got plenty of time.'

'Swan, we must call Whale! We must get you to the hospital!' I insisted, pulling into the turn lane so as to deviate from our route and instead get to the hospital.

'Killian, I'm fine, I promise,' she insisted. 'All I'd do at the hospital is wait around with nothing to distract me from the pain. At least this way I can be up and about. I promise, when it's time, I'll tell you.'

I was not convinced, was in fact fully intending to overrule your mother on this point, when Leroy sped past, a good twenty miles per hour above the speed limit. I'd warned that blasted dwarf again and again to watch his speed within city limits. There's no end of damage he could do going at such speeds.

'Killian, we've got to give him a ticket,' your mother said. 'You know we do.'

I sighed in exasperation before flipping the switch that set our siren blaring and setting up a pursuit of the little man whose malfeasance was possibly putting my wife and child in danger. I didn't just want to ticket him. I wanted to toss his miserable ar—I mean, butt—in jail.

A quarter mile later, the dwarf pulled to the side of the road, and your mother insisted on being the one to approach the car, no doubt concerned that my frustration might bring me to use my hook on him. I watched, fuming, from the cruiser while your mother approached the car, tapped on the window and then spoke to Leroy.

But then suddenly she doubled over, before standing straight and looking at me in shock. I was out of the car and at her side in a moment. "Swan?"

She looked down at the growing wet spot on the pavement, before looking back at me. "My water just broke. Killian, it's time."

I rushed her back to the car, Leroy calling a rather grumpy 'Good luck!' after us. I don't think I've ever driven so fast as I made my way to the hospital.

Finally, after eight and a quarter hours of rather painful labor, you, my little darling, finally made your way into the world. I shall never forget the moment I first laid eyes on you, the moment your tiny body was first laid into my arms. It was as though my entire world had shifted. I thought I was prepared for you; thought I knew the emotions I would feel, but I had no idea. You, our Hope, changed everything. You make our family complete, and there's nothing in this world or any other that I wouldn't do for you."

Killian kissed Hope's tiny head, and then softly laid her back in her bassinet. She squirmed for a moment, missing her father's warmth, but then settled just as one of the nurses came in to check on them.

"Everything looks good with both of them, Mr. Jones," the woman said with a gentle smile. "I know you don't want to miss out on anything with your baby, but I'd advise you to get some sleep while you can. Sleep's going to be kind of in short supply for the next several months with a new baby in the house."

Killian yawned deeply, knowing the nurse was correct. It had been a long day, and he was quite exhausted. With a nod and a quick thanks, he watched the nurse walk out and then settled on the little cot they'd set up for him on the side of the room.

Before his eyes closed, he looked once more at his wife and his child. They were his whole world, and he couldn't wait to fully embark on this new epic adventure of parenthood.

Notes:

-Well there you have it, the last chapter of Fluffy Fridays. After just over four years, 342K words and 150 chapters, this long collection is finally coming to a close. [Note: I'm closing the door on Fluffy Fridays but not locking it. It's not impossible that if inspiration strikes, I might add on to it yet again, but for now this is the end.]

-I've been terrible at responding to reviews and questions, but I want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you who have followed, subscribed, sent me comments or even just read this story through these long years. It's all meant more to me than you can know, and more than once it's given me inspiration to keep writing when the motivation was just not really there.

-Up next: As I said, this particular collection is at an end, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing. My next project is already in the works. I'll be writing an LOTR inspired AU for this year's Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. The first chapter will post on August 27, so watch for that! I've also got several other kernels of ideas floating around in my head—from a (probably largely fluffy) "What was happening in SB during season 7?" deleted scene multi-chapter, to a "what might have happened if there was a season 8" fic, to au's based on various other topics. As always, I'd also welcome any prompts or ideas you might have!