Emma leaned back against the cool porcelain of the tub, cradling her head in her hands. Why? Why was this happening to her? Now? She exhaled, and pulled the test off of the counter, the two pink lines mocking her. This should be something she’s happy about- her and Killian, having a baby. This should be a joyous occasion, but instead, it just means one more person she’s letting down, one more person Killian loves that will leave him-Oh, God, she thinks, letting out a shuddering breath. How is she going to tell Killian?
Looking back, she can’t believe she didn’t figure it out sooner- it’s been almost four months since she’s had her period, but when you add in the stress of being the Dark One, the Underworld, and then the whole Hyde thing, she figured it was just stress, or, she didn’t think about it. If her math was correct, she’s nearly four months pregnant- before she was the Dark One. She’d attributed any nausea or fatigue she’d had to grieving, or just over-exhaustion, but now she feels like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. She cradled her head back in her hands.
She’d only begun to suspect after seeing Belle give little Gideon up, to give him his best chance, she had said, and Emma had thought of Henry. Even though she and Belle were in vastly different situations, they were both motivated by the same thing- a mother’s love. This thought process had led her from her memories of giving birth to Henry, alone, giving him up, to the possibility of possibly having more children someday, with Killian- maybe a little boy with his dark hair and her eyes- which led her to now.
She had started to backtrack when her last period had been, and when she couldn’t remember, she made an excuse to her father about needing him to cover the station for the rest of the day, knowing Killian would still be with Belle for a little while longer, and had run out and gotten a test. Well, technically, she had magicked the test into her jacket pocket and then proceeded to buy a packet of gum, not wanting to give Sneezy fodder for the Storybrooke rumor mill. She felt a little bad about it, but in the end she figured that a ten-dollar theft wasn’t the end of the world.
She’d hurried home and locked herself in the bathroom- Henry was at school and Killian was spending some time with Belle, so she had the house to herself- and had set her phone timer for two minutes. It beeped, and she was greeted with two lines, which were really more of a formality at this point- she knew, deep down: she was pregnant.
She stood and turned sideways in the mirror, lifting up her shirt, and sure enough, there was a small, but noticeable enough, bump. How she- or Killian- had failed to notice was beyond her, but it was there. She brushed one hand tenderly against the bump, and put the other against her forehead.
She didn’t look pregnant in the vision, which meant one of two things: she died, after having given birth to the baby, or what went down was happening soon. She hoped it was the first option- at least, her baby would have Killian, would have an entire family of people that loved them- not the alternative, of her failing yet another person- possibly the most important- along with Henry and Killian.
Fresh tears well up in her eyes at that, and she struggles to push them down, but a few escape and run down her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers brokenly, to her child, “It shouldn’t be like this.”
Her thoughts are interrupted as she hears the front door slam, and Killian call through the house. “Emma? Are you here?”
Shit, she thinks- she hadn’t planned to tell him this soon, had imagined having more time with just herself knowing, but she can’t keep this from him. She has to tell him now. Hastily wiping her hand across her face, and grabbing the test (and box, she knows Killian won’t understand what the test means by itself), she opens the bathroom door and begins to walk towards the stairs.
“Here, Killian,” she calls out, hoping that her voice isn’t as shaky as it sounds to her.
But of course, Killian isn’t fooled- he’s always been able to read her, from the moment he met her. She enters the kitchen, where he’s taken off his jacket and gotten a glass of water.
“What’s wrong, Swan? Is it the visions again?” he asks, jumping up from the chair and swiftly walking toward her. He spies the box she holds, and asks, “What’s that, love?” She wordlessly hands him the test, and the box, and waits for him to figure it out- he’s smart, and she’s not sure she’d be able to get through telling him after just learning about the news herself.
He studied the box and set the test on the table, looking for a few moments before his face went slack, some of the color draining.
“Swan- is this- are you-,” he stammers, and she surprises herself.
He looks at her for a moment, with a look she can’t decipher- is it awe? Sadness? Before pulling her to him and embracing her, his arms tight around her and his face in her neck.
He pulls away, but still holds her in her arms, gazing down at her stomach. “How? When?”
She ignores the opportunity for a sarcastic comment that he’s handed her on a silver platter- now is not the time- and answers him honestly.
“I’m not sure… I think it was before I was the Dark One. Before everything,” she says.
He tenderly moves his hand over the small swell of her stomach, a small smile on his face- she’s identified the look as awe, now, for sure- “How did we not notice?” he asks, incredulously.
“I wondered the same thing,” Emma says, with a small smile, bringing her hand to join over his, over their child.
“Killian, I’m so sorry- you deserve more than this,” she chokes out, and she’s back in his arms again.
“Sorry for what, Emma?” he asks. “You’ve already given me so much, and now this? A child? That was something I never imagined I’d have, something I didn’t think I deserved- you’ve already given me so much,” he says.
“But-“ Emma begins, but he cuts her off, anticipating what she’s going to say.
“You’re not going to die,” he says firmly. “I’m not going to lose you- either of you, I can’t-and that’s all there is to say. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
And Emma is crying again, because he’s so good to her, and he’s going to be such a good father if- when- they get past this, and he simply holds her. When she’s calmed down, he pulls back, and plants a kiss to her forehead, to her nose, and to her lips, and Emma smiles despite herself.
“Now,” Killian says, “have you eaten?” Emma shakes her head. “Well, we’re going to have to change that, aren’t we?” he asks with a wink, and opens the fridge. “What sounds good, love?”
Months later, Emma sits in a hospital bed, her son cradled in her arms, sleeping peacefully, and thought about how close she had come to having none of this.
Killian dozes next to her in the hospital bed, his neck bent at an angle that looks extremely uncomfortable, and she knew eventually the nurse would come in and pitch a fit, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him, not after everything. She just wanted this quiet moment with her little family.
Just a few weeks after finding out she was pregnant, Emma had found herself in the fog on Main Street, battling the figure in the hood while her family watched. She had felt the cold metal pierce her skin, their panicked cries, had felt herself fall to the ground with everything going hazy- until she was woken, Killian’s lips on her own. He’d helped her up, and pulled her and Henry into a bone crushing hug, the three of them clinging tightly to one another, simply standing in the street. Killian suddenly pulls back, wide-eyed.
“The baby- do you think?” he trails off, thinking that he doesn’t deserve it all, maybe. That something that small couldn’t survive what its mother had just been through, physically, and he should just be overjoyed that Emma survived.
“I don’t know,” Emma had said, looking equally uncertain. “Come on, let’s go to the hospital. They’ll be able to look.”
They hadn’t told anyone about the baby, but perhaps everyone hadn’t been as unobservant as they had, because neither her parents nor Henry seem too surprised when they announce they’re going to the hospital to make sure their child is okay. In the end, Mary Margaret, David, and Henry accompany them and wait, while the nurse takes them back into a room. The hospital is quiet; it’s the middle of the night, and they wait anxiously. Emma is repeating a mantra in her head- everything is fine, the baby is fine, everything is fine, but a small niggling voice tells her that this part of her happy ending isn’t in the cards for her, that she failed someone today. Killian has her hand in a death grip, and he shoots out of his chair when the doctor enters (thank God it isn’t Whale, she thinks, absentmindedly).
Clearly, someone has apprised the doctor of the situation, because she simply tells Emma to sit back and lift up her shirt in a reserved, efficient voice, and she spreads the cold gel over Emma’s abdomen. She presses the wand to Emma’s stomach, and a soft, small smile crosses her face. Flipping on the monitor, she angles it so Killian and Emma can see- a healthy baby, about the size of a peach. “Everything looks fine,” she said, and Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as Killian pulled her into his chest from where he was standing beside her, both of them staring at the monitor, slumped against the other in relief.
To Emma, it was finally over. She survived. Their child had survived.
“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” The doctor asked, and Emma nodded as Killian looked at her with a questionable look on his face- until the steady, fast paced “whump-whump-whump” filled the room, and Killian’s smile got even wider, and he was crying and so was Emma.
“Everything is fine, you have a healthy baby,” the doctor said, smiling.
Henry, who seemed hell-bent on not letting Emma out of his sight, had returned home with Emma and Killian, which led to Emma, Henry, and Killian sitting on the couch-Henry slumped over, asleep, on Emma, between she and Killian, whom his legs were sprawled over. (In the morning, he might say he’s too old for anything like that anymore, but seeing his mother nearly die had apparently created a need for closeness, something Emma wasn’t complaining about.)
Emma ran her fingers through Henry’s hair as he slept, and looked over at Killian, who was watching them with a look of utter contentment.
“What are you thinking?” Emma murmured.
“That you’ve given me everything,” Killian says honestly. “Family, love, a chance to become an honorable man again- you, Henry, the babe- I never thought I would have this, a second chance. Ever. And I only have you to thank for it,” he finishes, sounding raw, grasping her hand across the back of the couch.
“Hey- I never thought so either. You’ve given me so much, too, Killian. You have no idea,” she says, equally emotionally.
At this point, Henry wakes enough to mumble to them. “Shh. Sleep now, talk later.” Emma chuckles, and Henry falls back to sleep, but not before saying, “Love you guys.”
Killian’s face has that awestruck, content look again, and Emma feels like her heart might burst from how happy she is right in this moment.
The rest of her pregnancy is uneventful, really. She goes into labor at the sheriff’s station, despite the fact that she is technically on maternity leave, but Killian is already there with her, having stipulated that she could go check on her father, but only if he went with her, seeing as she was already overdue- and they make it to the hospital quickly.
The entire time, Killian is there, holding her hand, kissing her forehead, and it’s so different from how it was when she had Henry, shackled to the hospital bed. Now, she has Killian. Her son and parents are on call, after she convinced them that they didn’t need to be there for hours on end when they lived ten minutes from the hospital.
In hindsight, they regretted acquiescing to her request so quickly.
The delivery went well enough- not too long, but not too short, and soon their son’s cries pierced the room as Emma fell back into the bed, exhausted. Killian held her hand and stared at his son, saying to her, “Emma, he’s perfect, he’s absolutely perfect, love, you did such a great job,” but she’s only faintly aware of his praise, straining to look at her baby as her vision fades out and the last thing she hears are the frantic beeping of the machines and Killian’s voice, now panicked.
“Emma! Emma, please-,” And then everything is black.
When she wakes, she is sore, and groggy, and her throat is dry. She looks to her left and sees Killian sitting in a chair, elbows propped on his knees, holding her hand and staring blankly at the floor.
“K-Killian-,” she chokes out, lightly squeezing his hand, and his eyes snap to hers.
“Emma,” he says her name like a prayer, kissing the back of her hand, and he stands, to hand her a small cup of water, which she readily drinks.
“How long?” she asks, and he answers.
“About twelve hours. The doctors said something about ‘internal bleeding’ and they rushed you off to surgery.” He takes a deep breath. “Gods, I was so scared,” he admits, “When they took you away, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Hey,” she says, “I’m here; I’m okay.” She asks a second, more important question.
“Where is he? Is he okay?”
Killian beams. He absolutely lights up. “Aye, love. He’s wonderful. Perfect. Your parents are with him now.”
“I want to see him,” Emma nearly demands, attempting to pull herself into a sitting position, trying to hide her grimace as she pulls a at her stitches, but it’s no good- Killian hops up and helps her sit up, gently.
“Be careful,” he scolds, “Don’t hurt yourself even more.” He stood up and kissed Emma tenderly, before leaving the room. “I’ll be right back, love,” he calls.
Moments later, Killian returns with a nurse, who begins to check Emma’s vitals, and look at her stitches.
“Everything looks good,” she said. “I’ll go get your little boy.”
A few minutes pass, and the nurse re-enters the room, rolling in a baby in a white and blue blanket.
“Here he is!” The nurse announces. “Would you like to hold him?”
Emma nods, eagerly, holding her arms out, and the nurse gently places her son in her arms.
Killian was right, Emma thinks, he is perfect. He has dark, downy hair and deep blue eyes, looking up at her quietly.
“Hi,” Emma whispers, one finger stroking the baby’s cheek. Killian leans down to kiss her head, then the baby’s.
“Oh, Killian, he’s perfect,” Emma breathed out, staring at the infant bundled in her arms.
“Did you doubt me?” Killian asks her, teasingly.
Emma smiles brightly and looks up at Killian, who’s smiling back just as brightly, and she noticed just how exhausted he looks. Carefully, she scooted over to one side of the hospital bed and patted the space next to her.
“Come on, Captain,” she said, “Get up here.”
A look of uncertainty crossed Killian’s face. “But, love- I don’t want to hurt you or the little lad-.” Emma cut him off.
“You aren’t going to hurt us, Killian. Please,” she said, gently, and Killian cautiously climbed into the bed next to her, after unscrewing his hook and placing it on the side table.
He settled on his side, watching Emma hold their son, and felt like his heart was going to explode, it was so full.
“Thank you,” he murmured, placing his hand over Emma’s while she held their son. “For giving me everything.”
“Hey-don’t thank me. We got here, to this point, together.”
Killian smiled at her, softly, and they spent the next few minutes just sitting together, staring down at their son, who had fallen asleep.
She turned to look at Killian, who had fallen asleep, with his head bent in a way that looked uncomfortable, and a protective hand lying over their child. She smiled, feeling like she might burst for the hundredth time since she woke up, and looked down at her slumbering child.
They’d both overcome so much, fought so hard, but she would go through it all over again just to have this moment forever.
“We love you so much, Charlie,” she whispered to the slumbering infant, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.