A/N- Yet another long long delay that I am so sorry for. I really hope this chapter makes up for your wait. This was the chapter that sparked the whole idea for this story. As such, it was INCREDIBLY hard to write. I think I've written like ten different versions at least.

A huge thank you to all of you who have been so amazing and supportive and keep leaving me wonderful little reminders that there are people still reading this. This is for you.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.

-Hermann Hesse

Chapter 13: Stages of Parenthood: Departure

The barn Nimue had offered for them to sleep in was warm and dry, and surprisingly devoid of animal smells. When Killian had arrived, Henry had already been passed out on a pile of hay and blankets. With a light chuckle, Killian merely shook out a quilt over the top of him and then watched the rise and fall of his chest as he settled down nearby.

Try as he might, sleep was long in coming. Knowing this was the final push, their only chance to get the darkness out of Emma, his mind raced with all that he had learned from the witch and his ever present fears for her. Even Henry's soft, steady puffs weren't enough to calm him this night from the incessant cadence of his thoughts. How was she doing? Was she still fighting against the darkness? Had her parents found her yet? Did she worry that no one would come for her?

His heart ached with his love for Emma. He knew that with her past, all of her old doubts had to be plaguing her. Though she was the strongest, bravest soul he knew, without proof that they were coming, he knew the darkness would use those fears against her. It gnawed at his gut and left a hole in his chest as he continued to let his worries consume him.

As the moon retreated and the night turned black, his resistance was so worn down he finally gave voice to the worst of his concerns, the ones that he had long refused to listen to. What if she was no longer his Emma? What if the darkness had taken her and she no longer loved him? What if Merlin couldn't be trusted? What if he never got her back?

What if, what if, what if…

Growling and cursing himself, he finally fought back, knowing how dangerous it was to linger on such things, even for a moment. Henry needed him and worrying about the future would only put him at risk. From the deepest part of himself, he summoned hope and forced his mind back on happier thoughts. In his mind, he replayed her confession of love, the look in her eyes when she tackled him in her loft, the moments she fell into his arms, and all their heated kisses. She believed in him, even when he felt he was unworthy, and now he had to believe in her. More than that, he had to believe in their love.

Eventually, he had drifted down; his mind focused on the way her warm fingers felt laced around his own, the way her hair would drift across her cheeks in the wind, just begging to be pushed back, and the way her smile made his heart burn. Sleep came, and at least on this night, there were no dreams.

It was a cool, grey morning when he awoke. There was the faintest smell of moisture in the air and all his instincts from his years at sea told him there would most likely be rain at some point. That didn't bode well for their journey, however, they had already wasted far too much time and he was itching to get on with it so he could finally go hunt down this bloody sorcerer.

Just after dawn, he woke Henry lightly, gathered their things, and made their way back to Nimue's cottage. The dark-haired witch was even more brightly dressed this morning, as she greeted them at the door, knowing how eager they were to be on their way. She handed them each a loaf of warm bread and a little jam for breakfast, a flask of sweet berry tea that she said would give them more than enough energy for their trek, and a couple of thin, wool blankets (hand-made and dyed in bright colors, of course).

Once more, she warned them again about the weather being unpredictable and to not take any chances should it decide to turn. Then, she told them how to reach the path that wound its way up the mountain, taking them to the top. It would be narrow and steep, but if they stuck to it, they would find their way to where Merlin slumbered.

As they left, Killian thanked her and Henry gave her a brief hug, which caused her to tear up very suddenly and practically run back to her house without another word.

"What do you think that was about?" Henry asked, looking back at the cottage.

The pirate frowned and shook his head. "Best not worry about it, lad," he replied, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and leading him away. He tried to push away the cold shiver that had slid down his spine, but couldn't seem to let it go.

Immediately, Henry poked him in the ribs and grinned. "Are you ready for Operation Frodo?"

"Eh?" Killian asked, coming out of his daze and feeling like he had missed something.

Henry rolled his eyes as they began to walk along the lake shore, but the smile never left his lips. "He's this, um, hobbit that goes on a quest to destroy an evil ring. And there's a wizard, an elf, a dwarf, other hobbits, a couple of other dudes. They travel all over the countryside. They even cross a mountain."

"Sounds tiresome," Killian commented, relishing the way his body's aches and pains worked themselves out as they trekked the sandy ground.

Henry adjusted his pack, but seemed to be full of energy and excitement. The sun was rising, the sky was dotted with those big puffy clouds, and the earth smelled of soil, rain, and possibility. "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, the movies are like 4 hours long each, so…"

"What on earth is a hobbit?" Killian asked, his mind half focused on his conversation with Henry and half on the land around him. Ahead of them, the beach gave way to an over-grown meadow, then a wide plain, before ending at the base of the mountain. If the directions Nimue had given them were trustworthy, they would spot the path they needed just as they crossed the plain. There wasn't much cover for their journey, but neither would they have to worry about unseen attacks, and Killian judged that they would make quick work of it. After that, they would begin to climb.

He could see the mountain clearly now. Its rocky face was interrupted by several rings of flat plateaus covered in trees. That was good. It would provide them with shelter and rest as they climbed. Though it was a tall mountain, it hardly seemed intimidating; the first leg consisted of a gently rising slope dotted with scrub and mountain grass. In fact, the only area where it seemed they might have any difficulty at all would be close to the top, where the mountain increased suddenly in steepness and sharpness. It looked as if the terrain there was made up of jagged boulders and fissures; like parts had fallen off to crash below.

However, Killian felt confident about their ability to traverse it, this not being the first time he had to attempt such a climb. And Henry was a strong, sure footed lad, so he had no worries about him, either. All-in-all, they might be able to reach the top by nightfall, or at the latest, by early morning.

Just as long as there were no other surprises waiting for them.

Henry was still talking, and Killian forced himself back into the conversation. "…big, hairy feet."

Killian raised a brow and shrugged. What had he been talking about, again? Rabbits? No. Hobbits. "Knew a sailor like that once. We called him Flappy Jim, on account of the noise his shoes made as he walked across the deck."

Henry suddenly broke out into uproarious laughter that Killian couldn't help but return.

After a bit, Henry turned his head up and stared at him. "You know, you kind of remind me of Aragorn a bit."

"Eh? Is he a devilishly handsome rogue, too?" Killian asked with a wink.

Henry shrugged. "Well…maybe. He's from the story with the hobbits. He was a bit of an outcast, but he was also a King." And then he added, with a hint of a smirk. "And he was pretty old, too."

"Ah," Killian said, with a shake of his head. "You know, it isn't wise to tease a pirate about his age."

"Oh, don't worry, Aragon retained his 'youthful glow,' too."

Puffing out his chest, Killian gave Henry a giant smirk and ruffled the boy's hair. "Then I approve. Tell me more about this fellow."

….

With a chuckle, Henry quickly ran through what he could recall of Aragon's story (which was surprisingly accurate and detailed) and finally ended up just recounting all the events of The Lord of the Rings from the beginning for a captivated pirate. Every time he paused for breath or to take a drink of water, Killian would ask him more details (in a round-about, trying-to-not-seem-excited-but-wasn't-fooling-anybody kind of a way).

After the tale had ended and Killian had applauded him for his stirring narration, Henry teased, "You know, at least I didn't compare you to Gimli. Or Legolas." There was a heaviness in the air that was making him feel a bit off-kilter. Killian had remained completely silent as Henry talked about Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, and if he wasn't mistaken, there were even tears in his eyes when he recounted Boromir's death. What began as a way to pass the time, had left Henry feeling even more curious about the pirate who walked beside him.

"Aye," Killian agreed, far too sincerely, but with a lighter tone than previous. "Too right, that. Elves were always uppity little twits. I suppose I shall be eternally in your debt, then, m'boy."

Having gotten used to the fact long ago that Killian had pretty much encountered about every type of mystical creature there was (either that or he was an exceptionally good liar), he merely nodded back and swung his foot at a clump of rocks, scattering them across the path. "Man, when we get mom back, there are so many movies we need to make you watch."

He looked up just in time to see Killian try to hide the twinge of pain that crossed his brow, and therefore wasn't all that surprised that he immediately changed the subject. "I still don't quite understand your world's obsession with that moving picture box."

Henry laced his thumbs through the straps of his pack and thought about his answer, his eyes squinting against the warm gold sunlight. "Well, in my world, there's no magic, so people don't really go off and have grand adventures and stuff. They have to either read about it, or watch it acted out. I guess it's a way for people to have a little bit of magic in their lives, even if it is just pretend."

Killian gave him a look approaching awe, and Henry felt a flush of pride run through him. "I see," the pirate said with a smirk. "That explains quite a lot, actually."

….

The conversation dwindled, both lapsing into a comfortable silence and just enjoying the beautiful day. There was a hint of moisture in the air that Killian's long experience told him precluded a heavy rain, but he felt good about their prospects of making it at least halfway up the mountain before it would fall. The sounds of birds and insects droned in the background as the steady crunch of their feet on the rocky path marked the time.

Already, they had left the low plains and were on a steady rise, trekking easily along the path that Nimue had told them about. There was no apparent sense of danger and nothing had yet seemed amiss, but there was a deep, unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach anyway. Still, he wasn't about to let his always suspicious nature ruin the moments he shared with Henry.

And Henry, too seemed far happier than he had been in weeks. There was a restless energy that was to be expected, but overall, his emotions seemed calm and hopeful. Killian wasn't niave enough to think that all the issues between them had been settled, but he figured that (much like his mother), Henry would open up about them in his own time.

For now, though they could wait. They were back on track for their mission and he could only hope that once they did find Merlin that everything would go smoothly. He couldn't bear the thought of finding the sorcerer only to have it be yet another setback. It was a possibility that he had not even allowed for himself. Merlin was going to help them. They would get Emma back. That was it. End of story.

(And all the whispering demons in his head could just go back to hell.)

"Do you think you would have liked to grow up in the Land Without Magic?" Henry asked, startling him out of his silence.

"Hmm. Hard to say," Killian answered, honestly pondering the question. He had never given much thought to the magic-less realm, other than Emma's presence there. He had just been content to be by her side, no matter where that was. But how did he feel about that land? It was strange, but not the worse place he could have ended up. And it did have its merits. The food, the ease of travel and communication, and its entertainment, just to name a few. "Growing up in the Enchanted Forest was not easy, however, I've always enjoyed a challenge. Your world, for all its comforts, seems to lack for the kind of experiences that made me who I am today. However, lately, I've began to see the merits of having a life of ease."

"Yeah. I kind of wonder if things will ever settle down in Storybrooke. I mean, like there seems to be a new villain or a monster or a curse every week," Henry joked, but with no real humor behind it. Killian turned to look at the boy, who seemed more and more like a man every day. His heart swelled with affection, and he longed to see exactly what sort of man he would make.

"Aye, lad. That's been my experience also. But tell me the truth. If all the battles were over tomorrow, would you really be content?"

"After everything we've been through lately? If it means the people I care about were safe and happy, I'd spend my life doing nothing more exciting than playing chess," he replied tersely.

Killian nodded in agreement. "I never before could imagine the benefits to a simple, mundane life, but I find myself wanting that more and more. Especially if, as you said, it meant that our loved ones were safe and happy." He soon found himself lost in thoughts of future free from worry with Emma and Henry by his side. It was something he had only rarely allowed himself to imagine, not knowing how Emma truly felt about him and his place in her world.

He was so deep into his fantasy, he almost didn't catch it when Henry called his name softly. "Killian?" Turning his head, he saw that the boy had stopped in the middle of the path and was scuffling his feet in the dirt. Without looking up, Henry continued, "Can I tell you something? Will you promise not to be mad?"

Killian stopped, turning to the boy and kneeling down in front of him so that he could look him in the eyes. He could see the nervousness written in Henry's stance and knew that whatever confession he had to make was causing him a great deal of anguish. "Henry, lad, there is nothing that you could ever tell me that would make me angry with you."

Apparently, he must have sensed the truth in Killian's words, because the next second, Henry blurted out, "I broke the quill. That magic pen the Author uses. I broke it." His eyes shone with tears as he continued on quickly, almost as if the words were forcing themselves out of him. "I could have fixed all of this and given everyone their happy endings, and I just held it in my hands and snapped it. I think that's one of the reasons I've been so mad recently."

Killian drew his good hand into a tight fist, not because he was angry with Henry, but because it was just one more example of fate toying with them again. "Do you mind if I ask why you did it?"

Henry blinked rapidly, tilting his head and looking away. Killian could tell that the answer was not a simple one. "That's how Isaac got in trouble. He tried to write his own stories, to change things in order to have his own happy ending. It was wrong."

He sensed then that the reason why Henry was telling him this was because the guilt was eating at him still, that there was a part of him that wasn't sure if he had acted correctly. It hurt to see Henry putting himself through this torment for so long. Yet, he knew exactly how easy it was to fall prey to those types of thoughts. "Then you did the right thing," Killian assured.

The boy's shoulders sagged with relief, but there was still a part of him that couldn't accept that it was that easy. "But I could have saved my mom. I could have changed her ending."

"At what cost, Henry?" Killian asked, watching how Henry studied his face like his mother did in order to see the truth in his words. "Could you have found the strength to give up that power once you used it? What happens during the next crisis, or the next? How long before you become the thing you swore not to be. Magic comes with a price, lad. You know that. And changing fate surely costs far more than you can pay. Your mother would not have wanted you to sully your soul to save her own."

When he was finished, Henry's entire countenance had changed. He seemed to accept what Killian had told him. He took several breaths, closed his eyes, and nodded to himself. "I know. You're right. But I can't help thinking about it, you know."

"Aye lad, I know all too well," Killian answered with complete sincerity.

Henry opened his eyes and stared back. He even gave him a small, watery smile. "Thanks, Killian."

Wanting nothing more at that moment than to pull the boy to his chest and squeeze him, he chose instead to ruffle the boy's hair, as he had seen his mothers do. But Killian could hear his voice crack as he answered him with a strained, "You are most welcome, Henry."

Henry blinked rapidly, and stepped away, looking past Killian towards the mountain. At first, Killian worried that he had overstepped his boundaries, but then Henry said, "You know, um, after all this is over, if you and my mom ever want to like, uh, move in together, or whatever, I'd be cool with that."

Incredibly touched, Killian asked, "Do you really mean that?"

"Yeah," Henry shrugged. He turned back and smiled easily, even though his cheeks were a bright red. "You're a pretty cool guy. And I know my mom loves you, and you love her, so…basically…yeah."

"Thank you," he said softly, nodding his head in a slight bow. "Your approval is important to me, lad, and I know it's important to your mother."

Henry let out a long breath, his gaze settling out into the far horizon, almost as if he was trying to picture Emma standing there. "I know she hesitates to take big steps sometimes. I know how scared she gets, but I think, deep down, she wants this. You just need to keep believing in her."

With uncharacteristic sincerity, Killian answered, "Believing in your mother is the easiest thing I've ever done. It's like breathing. In fact, it's almost as easy as believing in you." He finished with a toothy smile and slight nudge to the boy's shoulder.

Henry flushed bright red, as if unsure how to take the compliment. With a little cough, he squeaked out, "Okay, enough feels for now. How about we tackle this bad boy?"

He looked up. The path that had wrapped up and around the mountain like a silver ribbon was stretched out ahead. Narrowing as it rose, it was still a good two feet across with only a small lip on the edge preventing a person from falling off the side. Still it rose at an easy slope and there had been no major obstacles so far. Already they had come almost halfway up the side, passing the first ring of trees without even noticing. With any luck, the rain would hold off and they'd be at the top soon.

Emma we're coming.

Giving the boy a stunning grin, Killian waved his hook out in front of him and replied, "Aye, let's climb this bloody beast and find us a sorcerer!"

….

Just as Killian had feared, the storm hit just after dusk began, turning the dusty path into a loose, slippery muck. Well, he thought morosely, their good fortune was bound to end sooner or later.

Though they were so near the top he could practically taste it, he knew that the most dangerous part lay ahead and they would need to proceed carefully from this point on. Calling a halt to their journey before they lost the last of the sunlight, Henry scouted a narrow fissure in the mountain that was capped by a several fallen boulders, effectively making a cavern for them to take shelter. Henry scrambled in first, his head just barely clearing the underside of the stones and Killian followed, ducking down at the entrance and turning inside so that his leather coat absorbed the worst of the rain. An occasional strong gust of wind sent icy drop down the back of his neck and he wished he would have thought to change back into his pirate coat for this journey.

Henry, meanwhile, got to work bringing out their provisions and making a small fire out of the kindling they had gathered on the way up. Soon, there was a nice warm glow that helped to counteract the chill from the rain outside. Once their bellies were full, and their clothes and hair dry, they finally gave their sore muscles the chance to relax from the day's exertions. Henry spread out his travel cloak and his pack and stretched out along the rocky floor, while Killian stayed near to the entrance, his back propped up on the wall and his feet crossed in front of him. With the last of their fire dwindling to ash, they settled in for the night.

Henry dropped off first, his body not used to the type of exercise he had put it through that day. Killian stayed awake and alert for a while longer, listening to the rain beat down on the outside of their cave. His thoughts drifted from happy visions of the future, to painful reminders of the past, unable to latch on to any of them for any length of time. Perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps just the nervous excitement of being so close to their goal, but whatever it was that was preventing him from mental rest was also keeping him from physical resting as well. The rain helped, though. The soothing pattern of drumming beats was a familiar friend from long days at sea. If there was one thing that he could always count on to soothe him, it was the water, in any form.

With the heavy drone of the storm in the background, soon his jumbled thoughts were washed away, like the rivulets of the rain, and he slumped over into a dreamless sleep.

…

Not long after, Henry stirred from his slumber. Sleeping on hard ground was a bad thing for his hurt shoulder, and the dull achiness was just irritating enough to keep him from sleep. After shifting around trying to find a more comfortable position, he quickly realized that falling back to sleep wasn't an option. Besides the pain in his arm, there was just too much on his mind. And most of it had to do with the dark shadow perched at the entrance to the cave.

In the rain-filtered moonlight, he could just barely see the outline of Killian's drooped head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. It was enough to let him know that he was deeply asleep, so Henry felt it safe to sit up. Watching him intently, a strange part of him had the sudden urge to awaken Killian and have him soothe away the aches by distracting him from his troubles. Like a dad telling his son a bedtime story, his brain supplied randomly.

Chiding himself for being ridiculous, Henry settled himself into a more comfortable position against the side wall. It still afforded him the view of the pirate, and for some reason, it made his chest tighten strangely just knowing that Killian was (somewhat) standing guard.

As he tried to feel tired again, Henry found his unfocused thoughts dwelling on the man in question. It was the first time since they had begun this journey that he hadn't been thinking about his mom or about his secret fears that she might be gone forever. Replaying their conversations and the journey so far, hazy moments of their fight with the Manticore came back to him. He remembered how afraid he had been that Killian might be killed, worried when he saw the man injured on his behalf, how upset he had gotten when he had seen Henry injured. And still, he couldn't understand why he had done those things.

Maybe it was because Henry's experience with his moms' boyfriends was somewhat limited. Heck, his experience with having a father was somewhat limited. His dad was dead, and it totally sucked because he never got the chance to really know him. Their time together was so limited, Henry had no idea if Neal would have been a good dad or not. From the little time they had spent together, he knew Neal was a pretty cool guy and a true hero in the end. But then there were the new memories from New York, where he had spent a year thinking that his dad was some jerk who had abandoned his mom, which was actually kind of true. So, yeah, he was a little bit conflicted about what kind of dad Neal would have turned out to be.

So that just left the role of Henry's dad to either his Grandpa David, or to his moms' boyfriends. And that had not always turned out so great.

First, there was Walsh. He had been alright, cool even (for an evil flying monkey sent to spy on them), but there was always something a bit forced about their interactions. It was like he was trying too hard to be Henry's friend, but wasn't truly interested in getting to know him. Looking back, it was clear he was only being nice out of obligation, out of an attempt to make his mother distracted, and, yeah, okay, maybe he wasn't really a good example of a role model.

Then there was Robin. He was pretty cool (he was Robin Hood, after all), but he hadn't really been around for very long and he had his own kid (well, two kids, if you counted Zelena's baby) to worry about. But it was kind of nice to watch Roland and Robin interact, to see what having a dad was supposed to be like. However, it also was difficult. Sometimes, there was this small, petty part of him that was jealous of Roland, that he got to have a dad who always put him first, who cared for him in that special way that only dads can. Sometimes it was just hard to be around them.

Finally, there was Killian. He was so different from anyone else. He was intense in a way that almost frightening, and yet, Henry had never felt scared of the so-called villain. Theoretically, he knew Killian had done some pretty awful stuff, but so had his mom when she was the Evil Queen. And he wasn't even about to get started on his Grandpa Gold. If he had learned one thing in his thirteen years, it was that people could change. But that wasn't enough to explain why Killian felt so distinctive.

Maybe he was biased, because Killian had always treated him differently than anyone else. Ever since New York, the pirate had seemed to take a genuine interest in getting to know the real him. It never felt forced, or like it was something he did just to pacify his mom. Killian felt like a friend, like someone he could tell his secrets to or ask for advice and not have it be weird. And Killian never treated him like a child. He talked to him as if he was a peer, someone who he respected and admired. And that alone was enough to make his heart swell with affection, because even though everything was different now that the curse was broken, he still didn't really have friends. It was kind of hard when your family was always at the center of all the major magical madness happening around town. People tended to freak out a bit over that sort of thing.

So Killian was a great guy, and he would make a great dad, but did that mean that he wanted to be his dad? It was obvious that his mom and Killian were totally in love with each other, probably even True Loves, so it stood to reason that they would be together after all this was over. Maybe they would even move in together. Maybe get married (you know, someday far into the future, 'cause his mom tended to freak out when you mentioned the 'm' word). And now, thinking about it, Henry realized he was actually okay with that thought. Killian and his mom. Killian as his step dad. It could be cool. Killian was freaking Captain Hook, after all. He was 'the' pirate. Who wouldn't think that was cool? He always told the craziest stories from his centuries on the sea. And he was so much fun to be around. (Watching him try to figure out the modern world was absolutely hilarious because he got so personally offended by everything, and then he would scowl and grumble and his mom would just look at him all warm and happy and….)

Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes closed and called up his most dearly held secret; his own happy ending. It was a future where everyone he loved was happy and together and all the battles were over. He pictured what it would be like to have Killian as a part of it. He could see teaching Killian video games and him teaching him to be a sailor (and possibly a pirate, but you know, the nice kind). Maybe he would go off to college and Killian would be there, teasing him about girls and his classes. Or maybe they'd all end up back in the Enchanted Forest and Killian and Gramps would argue over whether Henry should become a pirate or a prince.

There was no version where his mom and Killian weren't together. No version which Killian wasn't a part of his life. It was obvious now that Killian had become his family, even if they had never said anything directly. Any future without Captain Hook just…hurt.

But would he feel the same way? Henry wanted to believe that his actions on this trip meant more than just them being friends, but being a dad wasn't something Killian had ever talked about. Sure, Killian loved his mom, and Henry was pretty sure he liked Henry, but did that mean he could love him as a son?

Still confused, Henry felt a giant yawn overtake him. His eyes felt heavy and hard to keep open, but he fought against it for just a moment longer, wanting the sleeping figure of the pirate to be the last thing he saw. And just as sleep was claiming him, his thoughts settled, and his heart realized something his head should have long ago; it didn't matter what happened in the future, Killian would always be a part of it, because Henry already loved him like a father.

…

Coming awake with a start, the first thing Killian noticed (besides the horrible crick in his neck) was that it was still raining. The storm of the night before seemed to have passed, however, and now only a light drizzle remained. It would be a hindrance, and possibly dangerous, but provided the path remained as distinct as it had been, they should be able to make their way to the top.

He found that he was suddenly overcome with excitement. Today, they would find Merlin and he would tell them how to rid Emma of the darkness. Then all they would need would be a way to reach her and...

Quickly reigning in those thoughts, Killian struggled with the burgeoning sense of hope in his chest. He, of all people, knew what it was like to feel joyful only to have it dashed away. It wouldn't do to get carried away now, not when there were so many loose ends, so many ways things could go wrong.

And yet, as he watched Henry come awake beside him, Killian couldn't help the way his heart was soaring. The boy was giving him a strange, sleepy-eyed look that inexplicably made the backs of his eyes prickle. With a little cough, he turned and greeted Henry, who returned his 'morning' with a goofy grin and mussed hair that begged to be ruffled, and suddenly Killian felt as if he could float up the mountain of a pillow of air.

Maybe, just this once, he could let himself feel optimistic. Maybe a bit of hope was what they both needed.

After rolling up his cloak and securing his pack, Henry joined him, peering out the cave opening at the grey, cloudy skies. Even though his face scrunched up with displeasure, his eyes remained bright and twinkling, and Killian's breath caught by how much he reminded him of Emma. "Looks like we're going to be getting wet," he commented dryly.

Unable to speak for a moment, Killian could only nod. "Aye, but I'll wager it'll let up soon enough. How are you with having a bit of a swim in the meantime?"

"Okay," he replied, then narrowed his eyes at the rain. "Give me a minute," Henry said cryptically. Killian watched in wonder as Henry shuffled around in the narrow space, doing something with his pack and the thin blanket until a sort of hooded cloak emerged. He looked up, his deep brown eyes all aglow with pride.

Killian looked in wonder at the practical contraption Henry had come up with. "Well done, m'boy! You are every bit as clever as your mother, and then some."

"Do you want me to make one for you?" He asked.

Killian pondered his offer, but ultimately knew it would probably hinder him more than then help if he needed to use his hook arm. "I've spent a great deal of time at sea, lad. I assure you, a slight bit o' rain will not affect me."

"In my world, there's a superstition about melting in the rain," Henry chuckled. Then his grin spread wide. "Actually, I think it might have been started because that's how they defeated the Wicked Witch of the West in the book."

"Zelena?" Killian asked, thinking about how difficult she had proven to get rid of and all the trouble she had caused. "They melted her with water? Good lord, lad. If it was that easy why didn't—"

"No, not Zelena," Henry laughed, sticking his hand outside the cave and letting the water splash on it. "The witch from the book. It was a kid's story, you know. So dumping water on her was I guess supposed to be less scary than having Dorothy, the hero, who's just a little girl, run her through with a sword or something."

"You're world just seems to get stranger by the second."

Henry flicked some of the water at Killian's face, causing the man to scowl merrily. "You come from a land with magic, and you think my world is strange? Yeah, but I guess you're right. I mean, if I was looking at it from your perspective, I'd find airplanes and cars and smart phones pretty amazing, too. Huh. I've never really thought about how confusing everything must be for you."

Killian picked up his pack, securing it underneath his leather coat. "Well, lad, when you've been a pirate as long as I have, you learn to adapt rather quickly. Did I ever tell you that subterfuge is a particular skill of mine?"

The boy's eyes went wild. "No! Come on, tell me a story! I want examples."

"Perhaps another time." He made a gesture indicating that the boy should lead. Immediately, they were both doused with rain. Fortunately, the water wasn't horribly cold and after several minutes walking, it was already dwindling to a light drizzle.

The clouds hung thick around them and below them, wrapping them in a dense fog that made it seem like they were on an island in a grey ocean. At least the path was still visible, now rising a bit more sharply that they were past all the vegetation and quite near to the plateau at the top. Killian judged the rest of their journey up would take no more than two hours, give or take, and the hope in his chest was burning so bright, he felt as if he might catch fire.

Needing a distraction, he spoke to Henry, who was climbing in front of him, one hand resting on the strap of his bag and the other sliding along the rain slicked stone of the mountain side. Now that the rain was lessening, the only sound was their boots crunching and squelching the rocks on the path.

"How about you tell me a story, Author."

Henry looked back at him over his shoulder. "Alright. What kind of story?"

Killian bit his lip in an attempt to keep the ache for Emma in his heart from spilling from his lips and making him seem like complete love-struck fool. Instead, he offered the boy a slightly altered scenario. "How about the tale of a dashing pirate and his brave first mate and their quest to rescue a beautiful princess from the forces of darkness."

Henry turned his head solely in order to roll his eyes at him. "That's a bit cliché, don't you think. How about the tale of a brave and dashing young pirate captain and his surly older first mate rescuing the princess?" He teased.

"Oi, lad. Watch it," Killian growled, but couldn't manage to keep his face straight.

Henry spun and took a careless step forward. "I was just—"

And it was in that moment that the world shifted and broke apart. First, Henry's foot slipped on the loose, unstable ground. Then, his arms scrambled for purchase, finding none. Finally, in trying to correct himself, he somehow ended up falling to the ground, and toppling over the side.

"HENRY!" Killian screamed. Though Killian was only a short way behind him, he wasn't close enough to do more than grab the boy by the back of his make-shift cloak, while his hook anchored itself into the side of the mountain.

"Hang on, Henry. Don't let go!" He shouted, trying to balance both his weight and the boy's while attempting to find a way to get Henry on safe footing.

"I'm trying—"

But the balance was off, and the cloak was no substitute for a firm hold, so Henry ended up holding to the edge with his right arm, while his feet dangled in the air. With his other hand, he tried to reach around and grab hold of Killian's hand in order to secure the connection, but his arms weren't long enough and he could do little more than flail one-handed.

"Henry, hold on. Just hold on," Killian repeated, desperate to find a way to lift the boy up.

He grunted and tried to pull himself up. But the only sure hold he had was with his already sore arm and the extra weight was making the muscles twitch and ache. "I—I can't—"

"Nonsense, lad. You can do it." Killian was straining, his face red with the effort to drag the boy up, but between him trying to keep them anchored and also trying to fall of the side himself, no amount of strength could pull him up. "I just need you to climb up. Just a little bit, lad."

"I can't. My shoulder. I'm not strong enough." Henry looked up at him with wide, shame-filled eyes. Tears streaked down his cheeks, getting lost in the silver cloud-mist below.

"Just move a little at a time. Slowly. We'll do this together," Killian said, somehow keeping his voice calm despite the sheer terror that had taken over his body. He swallowed hard and stared into the boy's eyes, as if trying to will his own strength into him somehow.

Henry nodded and slowly tried to bring his free arm around in order to find another hold on the mountain. Killian whispered words of encouragement and did his best to hold steady while the boy moved.

And just as his fingers touched the surface, the rocks under his other hand gave way. With nothing left holding him except Killian's hand on the loose cloak, Henry slipped right out of cloth, and with a little yelp, was gone.

"HENRY! NO!" Killian screamed, his eyes and heart and brain all in denial.

Henry had fallen into the cloud ocean and had disappeared completely into the mist. Killian remained utterly frozen and in shock, but all too soon the reality of what had just occurred slammed into him and it was all he could do not to just loosen his grip and follow the boy into oblivion.

He shouted the boy's name over and over until his voice cracked and the tears in his eyes completely obscured his vision. Exhausted, he wiggled his hook loose, letting his body slip down to the ground, never taking his eyes off the place in the clouds where Henry had fallen through, as if somehow he might come bursting back up through them. His hand dug into the woolen fabric of Henry's cloak, pulling it close to him fiercely. His body shuddered violently as his soul screamed out, trying to reject the reality of what had occurred.

But he couldn't fight the truth forever, especially when every time his eyes slipped shut, he was forced to replay the pleading look in Henry's scared brown eyes over and over again. Henry was gone. How could he be gone? This wasn't what was supposed to happen.

He wanted to wail. He want to shout, to fight. But fight who? This was all his fault. Henry had been counting on him, but he had slipped from his grasp and fallen to his death. It had been his job to protect Henry, to guard him with his own life. He had made his family a promise. And he had failed. It should be him that fell. This was Henry's mission, not his. Henry was supposed to wake Merlin. He had been the one summoned. How could this have happened?

Oh god. His heart had never felt this broken. He doubted it would have hurt this much if the Crocodile had succeeded in crushing it. He felt an ache so incomprehensible, it left him just numb. Nothing felt real.

Maybe it wasn't real, he thought desperately, unable to stop the trace of hope as his heart latched on to anything that didn't involve Henry actually dying. Maybe this was all a horrible, vivid nightmare. Surely he would awake at any time.

Surely.

Wake up, Jones, damn you!

Hours he sat there. Or days. He had no bloody clue. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. It was all over. Looking up, Killian saw the top of the mountain closer than he had realized. The goal they were so close to obtaining. Up there, lay the key to saving Emma. So close.

And yet…

What was the point, now? Even if he could find Merlin and save Emma, all he would be bringing her back to was a world in which her son was dead. And that he had been the one responsible. How could he even look at her? How could he face her?

His heart was torn. How could he even think about leaving Emma to the darkness? But how could he leave Henry? His (oh god) body was down there, somewhere. He needed to find it and bring him back home. He couldn't leave him here.

The choice before him was unthinkable. To continue on, find Merlin, and rid Emma of the darkness? Or to go back, find Henry, take his body back to his family? In his mind, his heart, and his soul, he knew there was really only one answer.

Slowly, Killian stood and began his descent.

…..

It was night by the time Killian made it back to one of the rings where the mountain levelled off. He found himself in a sparse forest of evergreens and other conifers that had managed to grow on the rocky ground. Everything inside him ached. His arms and legs, his head; but mostly his heart.

As the air about him changed, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. The small copse of trees he had entered grew thicker as he descended, and distantly, he could hear the steady noise of running water. Suddenly, his mouth felt extremely dry and he realized he had neither ate nor drank since that small alcove with Henry.

Henry. Who was gone. Lost. Whose body he was supposed to be searching for.

Stumbling over a fallen branch, he fell to his knees with a grunt. Suddenly, he had neither the strength nor the desire to get back up again. His thoughts turned dark, wondering why he didn't just stay here and let the wild take him.

Except, he knew he had a job to do. He needed to find Henry's body and return him to his family. There was no way he could leave him behind in this place. It might be his final act in the world, but it was least he could do.

So he focused on the sharp pain in his knees and used it to steady him, draw him back up and give him the push he needed to go on. He was so focused, in fact, that he failed to see the young man standing behind him, until he called out to him.

"Hello," he said, his voice calm and curious. Killian turned slowly, his bones and muscles protesting the movement. The dark-skinned young man had his arms full of sticks and branches, dressed plainly in a tunic and trousers. He wore a curious expression, and his eyes were warm.

Not that any of that mattered to Killian. "Sorry," he mumbled, hardly even aware of the words he was saying. "I didn't see you there. My apologies." After standing fully, he hung his head and began his trek once more to the source of the water.

"Hey, wait," he heard the man call after him. Turning his head slightly, he saw him running to catch up, the pile of sticks now slung over his back in a makeshift carrier.

"Look, lad. I'm in no mood for company. Please, leave me be."

The man met his eyes with a tense smile. "Very well, but I just thought you looked like you could use a little help."

Killian stopped walking with a long sigh. Running his hand through his hair, he shook his head. "I'm beyond all help, I'm afraid."

"Nonsense," the stranger said. "Everyone could use a bit of kindness." He pulled a water skin off his belt and handed it over, urging Killian to drink. With a clipped nod, Killian tilted the skin back and drank. The water was cool and quenched his parched throat, but it wasn't enough to bring him any real comfort.

The stranger took back his skin, and tilted his head, scratching at the eyebrow. "You look exhausted, friend. Not just the physical kind, but the kind where your whole being is empty. I know it's not much, but I have a cabin just a little way away, you are welcome there for a nice meal and some rest. I promise, I won't be a bother."

There was something infectious in the man's smile. It curved up at the corners and spread across his cheeks in a way that hinted that it held the answers to many secrets.

Unsure of the reason why, Killian heard himself say, "Very well, lead on."

….

Killian barely registered where his feet were taking him. He followed the man like a shadow moving not of his own will. Eventually, they arrived at a small wood cabin, set deep between the overhanging branches of a cluster of trees. It didn't matter to him. He could have been lead to the gates of hell and he would have stumbled through them without noticing or caring.

All he could think about was Henry.

"It will take me a while to get supper ready," the man said, the clattering of his kindling falling to the stone hearth causing Killian to startle. He glanced up to see the man arranging the sticks with his back to him and took the opportunity to look around. The cabin was sparse, housing only a couple benches piled high with quilts and pillows, a wooden table topped with various edibles, and the giant stone fireplace.

Without turning, the man called out, "Out back and down the path, there's a small fresh water pond. I've heard that the waters have the ability to cleanse and replenish the soul. I don't know if that's true, but a nice bath never did anyone any harm. Go ahead and wash and I'll have everything ready when you return."

Something about the man left no room for argument, and as heart-sick as Killian was, he never thought to question it. As he turned back to the door to leave, some small part of him remind him that it was bad form to be so ungracious, no matter the reason. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice scratching its way out. "Though, I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, lad."

Dusting off his hands, the man stood up and strode over to the table to gather up some of the food. "Oh, that's alright, you seemed to have more important things on your mind," he said in an easy manner. He looked up, then, and smiled again. "It's Emrys, by the way."

With a shaky nod, Killian replied, "Thank you, Emrys. I shall return shortly." He turned and exited, his feet leading him again into the night.

The man's smile fell as he watched Killian leave, and a heavy sadness replaced the warm glow of his dark eyes. "Take all the time you need, Captain."

…

Killian stumbled his way through the brush. Even though the path to the pond was marked clearly enough, he just didn't have the strength to keep going. And yet, his feet kept mindlessly moving on, unaware that they were propelling a mere shell of a man. Somehow, he found himself standing at the edge of the most beautiful pool of water he had ever seen. The light from the full moon was so bright it cast the entire pool in a wash of silver light. A thick wall of mossy trees surrounded the pool, providing more than adequate privacy. With numb fingers, he made quick work of the buttons of his vest and shirt, his boots and pants following soon after. Within moments, he stood along the bank, his clothes in a neat pile on top of a small boulder. All that remained was his brace and hook.

He lifted the self-made contraption up, noting the toll the long years had taken on not only the leather, but the flesh underneath. Scarred and stretched from years of use, his skin would forever bear the sins of his past. Even were he to never wear the brace again, the marks left would never fully fade. His thoughts drifted again towards Emma and he prayed to any god that would listen that she would be spared from having the scars of darkness tattooed on her soul like they had been left on him.

The curved edge of his hook catching the moonlight and bouncing it into his eyes. How many times had he done this? How many times had he stared at his hook with disgust and distaste. Never before, though, had he felt this sort of repulsion to it, this visceral loathing for the symbol of his vengeance. When had Killian Jones become nothing more than a piece of metal? And when it truly mattered, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough of a man to keep Henry safe. To keep Emma safe. He wasn't strong enough to hold on. What good was a man with a hook for a hand when he kept failing to save those he loved? With a shuddering sigh from the deepest caverns of his soul, he reached over and began to unfasten the straps one by one, letting the brace and hook fall to the ground with a heavy thump.

Stepping away, he slipped his feet into the cool water. It was warmer than he had anticipated and he descended down into it quickly, paddling away from the shore and floating about in the middle of the pond. The water felt good and refreshing, the tension in his muscles relaxing as he leaned back and looked at the sky above through the canopy of trees.

There were no stars in the realm. Just the moon, but it was twice the size it was in Storybrooke, even at its zenith. Henry would have loved this view. He would have peppered him with a thousand questions about what the moon looked like in different realms, or what it was like to see it rise on the ocean.

Unexpectedly, he felt a sudden warmth on his cheeks, and he lifted a hand out of the water to find that he was crying. It all seemed to hit him then, at once, and the small silent stream turned into a river of pain and anguish. A heart-wrenching wail worked its way from the pit of his soul and forced itself violently out of his throat.

I am so sorry. Henry. So sorry. Emma. I have failed you both. I am nothing.

If it hadn't been for the need to return Henry back home, he would have slipped under the water and never resurfaced. As it was, he dipped under, letting his tears and his sorrow get lost in the oblivion of the water. When at last the need for air became too great, he broke to the surface.

Drawing a great breath and then slowly exhaling, suddenly, he noticed he felt different. The horrible ache in his chest was gone. He breathed in again, and that squeezing sensation he had felt ever since Emma had disappeared was all but gone. It was like he could draw breath again for the first time.

He was overcome by a sense that something had changed. Perhaps he had finally released the grief that had been pent up in his soul for so long. He still ached for Henry and was worried for Emma, but those feelings seemed muted, less acute. How was this possible?

Stretching out his arms, he swam quickly back to the shore line, rising up out of the water and letting the warm night air dry him. As he looked down to find his clothes, he noticed something was amiss. Gone were his black shirt, vest, and pants. In their place, was a white shirt and vest, identical to his own in every way except the color. His black jeans were now a pair of soft tan pants and his boots were nowhere to be found. Having no choice but to don the new clothes or go naked, he quickly dressed in the unfamiliar colors. Surprisingly, the fabrics were soft and warm, and he was hit with a sudden flash of memory of his days as a lieutenant. That was the last time he had worn such colors, and putting them on again made him feel both nostalgic and unworthy.

His brace and hook were lain nearby, and for a moment he hesitated to put them back on. His thoughts about the hook were still unresolved, but, for better or worse, the hook was a part of him and always would be. He couldn't leave it behind.

Trekking back through the woods in nothing but his bare feet, Killian pondered at the change in his heart. He had no way to explain what he felt, other than to compare it to the moment he first realized he could let go of his grief for Milah and find love again. Was that what had happened? Had he let go of his grief? He knew he wasn't ready to move on, or that he had found something that gave him hope, but the emotion was the same. How could that be?

Killian smelled the food before the cabin came into view and his stomach growled loudly in anticipation. For the first time, he wondered if it was the young man, Emrys, who had exchanged his clothing while he had been underwater. It was the only way he could explain it. For a moment, he wondered about whether the young man had witnessed his break down, but he found that for now, he didn't really care. It was as if all his emotions, good and bad, were dulled.

The man greeted him at the door with another mysterious smile. "Ah! Captain, I see you the water has done its job. You look a bit more refreshed."

Killian plucked at the white shirt, and yet followed him inside anyway. "What is this, lad? Why did you take my clothes?"

Waving his hand towards a table with heaping bowls full of stew, and plates of berries and bread, he said, "Have a seat, Captain. I'm sure you must be hungry. I'll be glad to talk while you eat."

Killian collapsed into a chair, his body so very weary, and took stock of the feast spread before him. Emrys joined him a second later and started by grabbing a warm roll for himself. Killian followed suit, but ate slowly and carefully. "Very well, talk. Where are my clothes?"

"Those are your clothes," Emrys replied, his eyebrow arched as he pointed at Killian's garments with his spoon. "Just like the rest of you, they had been washed clean."

There was something strange about this man, but Killian couldn't place it. All his usual anger and self-preservation instincts felt off. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He frowned, staring hard at the dark-skinned man across from him. What was going on? Did this strange man do something to him? Why didn't he feel like himself?

There was something calm in the man's gaze, but it did little to reassure him, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that there was some strange force at work. Something he had missed. Something obvious.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Captain. The waters I sent you to have healing properties, just as I said. The reason you feel so strangely is because they have helped ease away your pain. And you, Captain, have had more than your share of pain. In fact, it is one of the main reasons you're here."

Then it all slotted into place. How had he not seen it before? The man had known who he was, had appeared on the mountain from nowhere. It was obvious now who he was talking to. "I suppose that means you are Merlin."

The sorcerer gave Killian a solemn little bow with his hand over his heart. "It would appear so."

Anger, deep fire and rage bubbled up inside him where only moments before was nothing. "What good are you as a ruddy sorcerer if you can't save the life of an innocent child? Don't you have magic?" He shouted.

Merlin stood, holding his hands out gently. "Calm down, Killian. Please. I will explain everything."

Needing answers more than vengeance at this particular moment, Killian managed to collect himself and sat back down at the table. Beside him, the bowl of stew began to swirl and cast a golden glow. "What the devil?"

The contents of the bowl were suddenly gone, replaced by an image of Henry, sleeping quite peacefully aboard his ship. His heart leapt at the sight, filled with a joy that he immediately pushed away. He couldn't allow himself to hope. Not yet. Not until he knew the truth of what he was seeing. "What manner of trickery is this?"

The man's gaze remained as calm and open as always. "Exactly as you asked. It's Henry. He's alive and well and perfectly safe aboard your ship."

"If this is a trick-"

Merlin leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "I assure you, it is no trick. Perhaps there was a bit of subterfuge involved in his 'death,' but Henry was never in any danger."

Henry was alive? He hadn't fallen to his death? How? His mind reeled with questions and with the sudden influx of emotion. Part of him wanted to leap out of the chair and race back to his ship. But there was still some sort of rational part in him that reminded him that he still needed Merlin's help with Emma.

Merlin. Now that the shock was wearing off and he felt much more himself, Killian stopped to ponder the type of man he was dealing with. On the surface, he had been nothing but kind and (somewhat) open. But what kind of person would resort to this level of cruelty in order to make a point? Maybe he was no different than any other sorcerer, playing mind games and using him as a pawn.

Killian crossed his arms over his chest, his hook on full display. Now that the reality of Henry not being dead was starting to hit him, he felt his anger coming back in full force. "So what do you want, Sorcerer. Why play games like this? Will you help or not?"

Merlin looked up, chagrinned, but only slightly. "I am sorry that I had to do that to you, Killian. I know how deeply loss affects you. But there was simply no other way. I had to make sure."

Jaw clenching, Killian seethed. "Make sure of what?"

Merlin sat back in his chair, seemingly unmindful of the rising emotion from the pirate. "You heard my story, did you not?"

Killian nodded. He recalled the story Nimue had told them about how Merlin had tried to destroy the darkness only to become the Dark One instead.

"Do you know why I failed?" Merlin asked.

"I assume because the darkness was too strong. Even for you," Killian added with a smirk.

Merlin smiled at that. "Yes, partially. The real reason was that I was wrong about myself. I thought my heart was big enough, that it was full of enough love to overcome that evil. But I am, after all, just a man," he said, as he gave a very purposeful look to Killian. "And no mere man, or woman, will ever be strong enough on their own."

Killian's heart fell. "What are you saying? Is there no hope for Emma?"

Merlin stood, his presence growing larger in the room than Killian had anticipated. He could sense the great power the man wielded and for a moment, he feared what he was about to say. "Don't worry, Captain, there is hope, there is always hope. There is a way to save your Emma, it's taken me centuries, but I finally found a way. And it lies with you."

Him? How was that possible? It was Henry who had been called here. How could he save Emma? "What?"

Merlin paced the floor in front of the hearth, his hands clutched behind his back. "This, all this, was a test. Not for Henry. For you. You see, Captain Jones, you are really quite remarkable. Your heart, your ability to love is…" he scratched his brow with his finger, and gave a slight chuckle, "well, I don't think I've seen its like."

Killian balked, pushing over the chair in his haste to put some distance between himself and the obviously deranged sorcerer. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? I was a villain, mate. Pretty sure that my heart's been just as full of darkness as love."

"But don't you see?" Merlin exclaimed, turning to look at him with a fire dancing in his deep black eyes. "That's exactly it! You became a villain because you experience heartache so profoundly, that it drives everything you are. Three hundred years, Captain. You carried that anger in your heart for three hundred years. It would have destroyed a lesser man."

Killian shook his head. "It very nearly did destroy me. It was only Emma—"

Merlin closed the space between them with only a couple long-legged strides. "And that's my point," he grinned, poking the pirate right in his chest. "You found love again. You opened up your heart and let it heal all those years of pain. And when you made up your mind, you committed yourself to your love with all that you had."

His head was spinning. Very little the man had said was making any sense to him. "What's all this about, then? Why all this nonsense?" Killian demanded.

Seeing that he was pushing too hard, Merlin toned down his excitement and retreated back a distance. "I needed you to come here, with Henry, because I needed your heart as full as it could be. The quest was always about you and your bond with the boy. You love him, do you not, like a son?"

"Aye," Killian readily admitted. There was never any real denying of that fact, even if he had never admitted it out loud.

Merlin hummed and nodded, clasping his hands together. "That's why I had to break your heart. One last time," he said softly. Then his whole manner shifted, a sadness overcame his eyes and he put a hand on Killian's shoulder. "I'm sorry for that, though. Truly. But I needed your heart empty for what comes next."

At that moment, Killian didn't care how sorry the man was, he had very nearly been driven mad with grief. He had believed Henry to be dead. He had been used and toyed with by someone with power yet again. He was tired of being nothing more than pawns in these people's games. Tired of being a slave to the whims of those with more power. "You played with my emotions! You made me think I had failed Henry, that he was lost to me forever? How dare you!"

At least Merlin had the decently to look properly apologetic. "I'm sorry captain. I am. But it had to be done."

Killian growled, his jaw muscles working away as he tried to refrain from slitting the man's throat or doing some other sort of action that he would probably regret later. "You say that, but you have no idea what it felt like. You have no idea what it is like to have your heart ripped from you and torn apart, again and again."

Merlin's eyes fell, the fire behind them snuffed out. "I know that, Captain. That's why you are the only one who can do this."

"Do what, exactly?" Killian asked determinedly. He approached the Sorcerer, placing his hook right on the man's chest. "No more games. Tell me what you want from me."

Merlin lifted his face and locked eyes with him. Ancient and deep as the darkest part of the night, Killian could the magic swirling behind them filling air again. His hair stood up on his neck, but he knew he couldn't back down.

"I want you to destroy the Dark One. Forever."

…..

Falling. He was falling into the air, his stomach feeling like it was doing that weird flip-flop thing you get on a roller-coaster. Intense fear and confusion, all rolling around together. Soon, though. Soon he would crash, and that would be it. Game over. The end. Goodbye.

His mind wheeled and spun, like his body, with images of all those he would leave behind. Archie, the dwarves, Belle, Grandma and Grandpa and baby Neal, Robin and Roland. His moms. Killian.

Now, something was happening. The air thickened around him. The roaring in his ears getting stronger.

This was it.

Henry Mills was going to die.

Wind rushed by him, feathering his hair and clothes. His body felt oddly heavy as if it were being pulled down instead of floating. His heart raced as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut to not see the approaching ground.

Then, his stomach flipped again, making him feel dizzy and out of sorts. And he turned—

And met the hard wooden floor of the Jolly Roger.

Henry sucked in his breath, opening his eyes one at time at the bright sunlight pouring in through tiny ship windows. What the-?

He was alive. He was back at the ship, in his cabin, his legs and feet tangled in the sheets. Was it all a dream? Did he have a nightmare or something?

Patting himself down quickly, he checked himself for injuries. There was a bruise on his elbow from falling out of the bunk, but other than that, he was completely fine. Maybe it was just a dream, a really, really strange vivid dream.

Henry threw off the sheets, trying to force his wobbly legs to stand, when all of a sudden, the door to the crew quarters flung open with a loud bang.

"HENRY!" Killian shouted, running across the room and scooping him up into his arms without warning.

It felt like the pirate was trying to squeeze the life out of him, and there was a slight tremble in his arms as he clung to him. What was he doing? This was so weird. Yet, Henry found himself clinging back just as hard, as a warmth surged through his heart.

"I thought I had lost you," he heard Killian whisper, an oddly pained note in his voice.

So, it hadn't been a dream, after all. He had fallen and now he was…back on the Jolly? How?

"I don't understand. What happened? Why am I here?" Henry asked, pulling back. Killian immediately let him go, and Henry felt his legs give out under him as he fell back onto the bunk with a whoosh. His thoughts and emotions were completely scattered, but he didn't miss the way Killian was staring at him. There were actual tears in the man's eyes. Not sadness. There was no real sadness there, just relief and joy.

Henry was glad to see him too.

Killian sighed, his intense stare softening into a wide, happy grin. "Merlin. It was all Merlin."

Henry's mouth fell open. "Wait. You found him? You met Merlin? The Merlin. Does that mean he'll help us? Tell me everything!"

Killian gave a quick chuckle, but turned his head. "Aye, lad, but it's quite the tale. All you need to know right now, though is that he's given me what we need to help your mom be rid of the Darkness."

Okay, something's up with him, Henry thought. He's being a cagey and mysterious. What is he hiding? He studied the man closely, but Killian merely turned back with another blinding smile, whatever secrets he was keeping now locked away. Besides, Killian's joy was more than a little bit infectious. "Now, I'd say we've kept her waiting long enough. Ready to go home, lad?"

Killian was right. Secrets could wait, but his mom couldn't. Pumping his hand in the air, Henry jumped from the bed and rushed out the door. Halfway up the stairs, he called back after the pirate who was still standing at the doorway wearing a stunned expression. "Well, what are you waiting for, Killian? An engraved invitation? Let's go get my mom back!"

A/N- Fun fact: My original version ended right after Henry fell. I thought that a cliffhanger like that might be a tad too much, so I cut most of the Merlin convo instead. It will be shown in the next chapter though. There should only be one, maybe two, chapters left. We are almost done, and I will do whatever I must to get it finished soon! Don't forget, I'd really love to hear from you, too? What did you think?