Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seven year old Harrison 'Harry' Liam Jones laid awake in his bed late one night—curled up into a ball, silently crying into his baby blanket and holding his teddy bear close.

He hadn't seen his daddy in days and he really missed him a lot.

Every year on the anniversary of Uncle Liam's death, his daddy would take his flask and a couple of bottles to his room and lock himself inside—not coming out for days at a time. And every year, it seemed to get worse with his daddy staying in his room and drinking out of his flask more and more on certain dates.

The date of when he first met Milah? Check. 

The date of their first kiss? Check. 

The date of her death? Check.

Her birthday? Check.

The date of when Grandpa abandoned him and Uncle Liam? Check.

The date of when grandma passed? Check.

The date of when he met Baelfire? Check. 

The date of when he left Baelfire? Check. 

Baelfire's birthday? Check.

He even drank on his own birthday!

Harry didn't like it when his daddy was sad—it made his heart hurt real bad and it really scared him a lot.

His daddy would always stay hidden away in his room with his flask and his bottles, crying and talking to people that weren't there until he passed out and he'd always leave his room covered in bruises and small cuts.

The raven-haired boy had even listened in on his daddy's strange, private conversations with people who weren't there a few times and he didn't like what he'd heard.

He found that his Daddy was talking to Uncle Liam, Miss Milah, Grandpa, Grandma, Baelfire, and the crocodile through the few times he'd listened in on these conversations.

He'd say things like:

"I'm sorry maman. I'm sorry I'm a monster."

"I'm sorry Papa, I shouldn't have done it. I regretted it as soon as I did it."

"I'm sorry that I Killed you, mama. Papa. I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry Liam. I'm sorry I'm not strong. I'm sorry that I'm such a disappointment. I'm sorry that you died and I didn't. I'm sorry."

Things like:

"I'm sorry I left him, Milah, I'm sorry. I'd take it back if I could. I'll do anything to make things right. I'm sorry I didn't save you. I'm sorry that I failed your boy. I'm sorry that I'm a coward. I'm sorry that I survived and you didn't."

"I'm sorry that I left you Bae, I'll do anything to make it right. Anything at all".

"Bloody imp! I'll fucking kill you when I get my hands on you!"

"Why'd you leave us Papa? Why? Why did you do it? Why'd you sell us to that man? Why? Didn't you love us?"

And more. 

So much more... 

All terrible and self hating and so much more vulnerable than he was used to hearing his daddy. And Harry hated it.

His daddy shouldn't be saying these things.

His daddy shouldn't be this sad.

His daddy shouldn't be sick like this all the time; most days shouldn't be bad days. 

But most days were bad for his daddy, making him sick like this alot and Harry didn't know how to fix it.

His daddy always told him that he was fine when he asked about it but Harry knew he wasn't.

He was a big boy now and he knew that this sort of behavior wasn't okay. 

That it wasn't healthy.

That it could kill his daddy.

He'd overheard his daddy's crew talk about how one of these days his bad days would be the end of him.

That his drinking and recklessness would kill him and leave Harry all alone.

Harry didn't want his daddy to die and he didn't want to be alone but he had no clue how to talk to his daddy about it when it would only make him angry.

He didn't want to get his daddy's crew to get in trouble and he didn't want his daddy to be mad at him when he had never been mad at him before. He'd do anything to make his daddy happy—anything at all.

"What's wrong, little one?" An unfamiliar voice called out, causing Harry to jump up and scramble for both his lantern and his fake hook.

The creepy, unfamiliar voice chuckled—giving away its location.

Harry lifted his lantern in the direction the chuckle came from and nearly dropped it as he scrambled backwards in fright—hitting his back against the wall. 

There, in the corner near the door, was a scary man who Harry had never seen before;One with scaly skin, a twisted smile, and messy, unkempt looking hair. 

"W-who are you? " Harry said, holding his blankie, hook, and teddy close to his chest.

"I go by many names but you can call me Nikstlitselpmur." 

Harry tilted his head in confusion, not understanding why anyone would name a kid that or why anyone would want to go by that.

"What do you want?" The frightened and confused seven year old questioned, trying to put as much distance between him and the strange man as possible while silently praying that his dad would decide to check on him soon and chase the scary man away with his hook.

His daddy always protected him—even when he was being brat, even on his bad days.

He remembered one time, when he was about 3 or 4, he had a really bad night terror that caused him to wet the bed and wake up screaming during one of his daddy's bad days.

His daddy was the first one in the room, despite being really hung over and didn't get mad at him when he didn't find a real threat. He just held him and assured him that everything was okay before helping change the bedsheets and his pjs.

Harry hoped that if he did need his daddy's help that he would show up in time—he didn't want to be added to the list of people who his daddy lost. 

He didn't want to be another reason his daddy would drink until he passed out—didn't want to be another reason for his daddy to be sad.

He wanted everything to be okay. For the two of them to be okay. He just wanted the scary man to go away and leave him alone.

Another dark chuckle echoed through the room, causing Harry to jump as the man suddenly appeared at the edge of his bed.

"Oh dear boy, it's not what I want.... it's what you want.. and I can give it to you... for a price."

Harry squeaked in fright and scurried away from the man as fast as he could, stopping when he realized he had left behind his teddy bear—Capt'n Krak'n. 

He hesitantly reached back and quickly yanked up his captain before continuing his escape to the end of his bed.

The creepy man was blocking the way to the door, meaning that he couldn't escape through that way and that he was cornered. 

Which was never a good thing according to his dad.

His heart was pounding out of his chest, his hands were trembling, and his eyes were watering; he wanted his daddy to come busting in through the door and save him from the monster that called himself Nikstlitselpmur.

His lips trembled as he struggled to stutter out a coherent sentence.

"What do you mean?" 

Couldn't Nikstlitselpmur see that he didn't want him here?

The man rubbed his hands together and smiled crookedly at him, making Harry's stomach drop as he curled up into a ball, trying to make himself as small as humanly possible.

"You want to make your daddy happy and I can help you do that" At the man's words, Harry looked up at him with a mixture of hope and curiosity. 

Could Nikstlitselpmur be telling the truth? Could he really help him make his daddy happy? What would his price be?

"How? And what's your price?"

Nikstlitselpmur smiled at him and his eyes scanned the room before landing on the hook that was between them.

Harry felt his stomach drop—he loved that hook, it was one of his most prized possessions. Could he really part with it?

"That hook seems like a rather small price to pay for your father's happiness, doesn't it?" The crooked man said, smiling.

The creepy man was right. His daddy's happiness was the most important thing here—his daddy's happiness was a lot more important than a fake hook.

Harry picked up the hook and handed it to the man "we have a deal, Mister."

Nikstlitselpmur chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial of grayish-green liquid. "This... this right here will make your daddy happy. Drink this and your daddy will be happy eventually."

Harry hesitantly took the vile from him, uncapped it, and smelled it, wrinkling his nose at the scent before downing it. 

Black dots momentarily clouded his vision as his limbs grew heavier and he slumped forward—falling unconscious.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly before mumbling a spell that he had read in a book—a spell that sent his enemy's son along with his son's toys as far away as possible. He didn't know where the spell would take the brat, and he didn't care—If he couldn't have his son, then Hook couldn't have his either.

Chapter Text

"Like a small boat on the ocean,

Sending big waves into motion.

Like how a single word, can make a heart open—"

Emma groaned as her phone went off—waking her as she received a call—and blindly reached for it from under her covers. 

The sun was shining bright and it was supposed to be her day off. So who the hell was calling her and why?

She glanced at her phone to find that it was 6 am.

Who the hell was calling her on her day off at 6 am?!! 

She furiously answered and said "this better be good!"

"Someone is trying to break into Gold's shop" Leroy reported, sounding a bit off—which caused Emma to fully awaken.

"I'll be right there " she sighed, sitting up: 

The last thing they needed was for Gold to kill someone barely a day after the curse had been broken.

"Come quick, this is a bit of a special case" Leroy sounded really, really off and she didn't know why.

"Do I want to know?"

"Not at all, sister." 

That alone told Enma that this was gonna be a very long day.

30 minutes later, Emma stood outside of Gold's shop—leaning against her car, mouth agape as she stared at the scene in front of her in shock.

A small sickly child that looked about 4 or 5 was alternating between banging and kicking on Gold's door, and throwing rocks at it and the window. 

Yelling at the top of his lungs, red in the face—flailing his little arms around as he did so.

"COME OUT AND FiGHT ME YOU COWARD!"

Emma watched for about 5 minutes, frozen in shock as her mind buffered.

'What the hell was going on? Whose kid was this? Where were they?! Why was he so angry?! Why was he out at this hour? And why the hell was he going after Gold of all people?!' All these thoughts and more were running through Emma's head as she watched this kid throw the tantrum of a lifetime.

He started slamming his tiny fists against the windows of Gold's pawnshop, turning redder and angrier as no one answered.

"I SAID FiGHT ME, YOU WORTHLESS BLOODY IMP!" He screeched, cracking the window and snapping Emma out of her shocked stupor.

'Shit. Gold was not gonna be happy about that. This kid was gonna be dead..'

"Hey! Hey! " Emma shouted, running over and yanking the presumed kindergartener away from the cracked window. 

He continued to kick and scream and flail as Emma grabbed him.

"Hey kid, stop that!" She exclaimed sternly.

To her surprise, the young boy stopped and just slumped against her sobbing hysterically.

Emma looked around and upon realizing that no one was looking, made a split second decision to pick him up and get him out of there before Gold arrived.

He yelped, obviously startled at being picked up by a stranger but Emma ignored it and quickly rushed him to the car.

She wouldn't put it past Gold to hurt a small child and she had a feeling that there was something more going on here than she knew, so she did what she did best—she ran. 

Little did she know that this decision would be one of the best she'd ever make.

Chapter Text

As soon as the shop was out of sight, Emma turned to the boy.

"Okay. Now that you're out of danger, what the hell was all that about?" She asked, glancing at the small boy in the car rear view mirror. She wanted to know why such a small boy was so furious with Gold and why he was so desperate to attack/fight him.

"He tricked me and needs to pay! Take me back!" The boy demanded in tears, trying to take his seatbelt off.

"Hey, leave that on!" Emma said, hitting the brakes, and turning to him.

"Why?" The ravenette whined.

"Because it's not safe to be in here without uh—what's your name?" She asked, realizing she didn't remember it. Did she even get it in the first place?

"Harry Jones" the boy—Harry apparently—responded. 

"Okay, Harry, I know you're angry at Gold but you have to listen to me or else I can't help you, okay?"

"You'd help me?" The boy asked, apparently missing the rest of what she said.

"Depending on what you need help with, yes" she replied, "so I ask again. What the hell was all that about?"

Harry seemed hesitant to tell her but answered her anyway.

"The crocodile said he'd help me make daddy feel better again but he tricked me and sent me away instead and now I'm here and daddy Isn't" he rambled, getting more and more upset with each word.

"Okay.. how about this.. if you don't go after Gold, you can stay with me and I'll help you find your daddy. Sound good?" Emma bargained, hoping he'd take up the deal.

"Deal!" Harry said excitedly, clapping his hands—a wide smile on his little face. He looked absolutely adorable, even when his stomach rumbled loudly.

"That's good. Now stay still and don't mess with that thing around you, and I'll get you some food, okay?" Emma said, smiling at the kid. 

She wondered if Henry was that cute as a little kid, before quickly brushing that thought off.

"Okay!" He beamed, clapping happily. "Thank you Ms!"

"Call me Emma, kid" she responded, smiling back at him. 

She wondered who could make such a cute kid and if she could somehow bribe them into letting her babysit him.

He was absolutely adorable and she wanted to keep an eye on him, to protect him from Gold who would no doubt be angry at him for trying to break into his shop.

"Okay! Thank you Emma!"

Chapter Text

15 minutes later, Emma and Harry were seated at a booth in Granny's—which was nearly deserted at this hour—eating breakfast. 

The few patrons and staff who were in the diner kept glancing over at them curiously, but none dared to approach.

Mainly because of the death glare Emma kept shooting them when she caught them staring. She had a very menacing glare, okay? 

The knowledge that she was the savior and the lost princess made said death glare even more terrifying than it already was.

Most of the people in town had already figured out that it was best not to irate her from her actions alone. Seeing that glare made them stick to their guns on that matter and so no one bothered the Sheriff or the strange boy who was with her.

No one except for Ruby, that is, who was the only one brave enough to approach their table at this point. Making her their waitress for the day and man, was she doing a good job! She was being kind and patient with Harry, even when he tried to hide under the table to get away from her because he was shy.

She didn't take offense to it or get annoyed or mad when he struggled to read the menu. And she even managed to find some crayons for him so he could calm his nerves. 

Emma couldn't have been more thankful because she honestly didn't know what to do in this situation.

Other than ordering her usual breakfast— hot chocolate with cinnamon and a couple of bear claws— and paying for Harry's blueberry pancakes and orange juice, that is. Which the small boy was happily chowing down at the moment, nearly inhaling them.

It was as if he had never had anything as good as them before— which, if that was true, was a depressing thought.

Emma decided to take her mind off of it by doing what was inevitable and asking Harry more questions, since she still had a lot of them. "So, how old are you?"

Harry paused, dropping his fork down on his plate as he thought about it. Still chewing. "Do I have to add the 28 year curse thingy to my age, cause I'm not good at math."

Emma wasn't sure whether to laugh, groan, or facepalm at the question.

So she just settled on pinching the bridge of her nose and answering him "no. Just give me the age you were before the curse happened. "

Harry began counting on his fingers, furrowing his brows and scrunching up his nose as he did so before finally settling on a number. 

Emma sighed internally, knowing that it was gonna be a loooooong couple of days if this is how things were gonna be.

"I'm 7" the ravenette said proudly, holding up his fingers.

Emma raised an eyebrow skeptically at him, not expecting that answer. 

He was much too small and thin for a 7 year old in her opinion. 

Not to mention how he acted was much different than how she had seen most seven year olds act. Then again she didn't know any seven year olds personally so she really didn't have anything to compare his behavior to.

"Are you sure?"

Harry gave her a half-hearted glare, not looking amused at all.

'Okay, note to self, refrain from asking that question when possible,' she silently mused, trying to hide the amused smile that was threatening to break free.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, okay. Noted. Now can you tell me who was taking care of you during the curse?" All this question earned her was a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

An odd, heavy, sinking feeling developed in Emma's chest as she looked at the boy's face. She really hoped that this wasn't going where she thought it was going.

"I mean, where did you live and who took you to school and fed you and all that?" She elaborated, trying to act nonchalant even though she was screaming on the inside.

Her mind was racing horribly and was slowly forming a horrible conclusion that she didn't like in the slightest.

So she tried to reason with herself, still in denial.

'Calm down, Emma. There is no way that Harry was alone during the curse. There is no way—a 7 year old can't go that long without being noticed, right? People always noticed her when she was that young, after al—'

Harry innocently interrupted her panicky thoughts, unintentionally making them worse with what he said next. 

By confirming what the savior had been thinking.

"No one took care of me. Only I took care of me, cause the crocodile made sure no one ever noticed me or cared. He and the mean mayor lady made it to where I was alone during the curse."

Emma felt like she was gonna be sick.

She couldn't believe this—she knew Regina and by extension Gold were evil. 

She had seen Henry's book. 

She had heard stories.

Hell, she had even seen it in person herself on multiple occasions but she had never thought that they would go this far.

Cursing people was one thing, but making sure that a child had no other option than to take care of themselves was whole 'nother thing entirely.

Making a child starve and freeze on the streets with no memory why was irredeemable and just plain awful. 

How could they do this?  

Even if Harry was the son of a demon, this wouldn't be justifiable.

This was child abuse or neglect, kidnapping, and endangerment at the very least .

Suddenly, Emma understood why Henry hated Regina so much despite the fact she was a seemingly loving mother who gave him everything he could ever want. It was because she truly was near heartless and Gold was clearly no better.

And Emma wasn't happy with this at all and was soon gonna make her displeasure known to them very soon after she dealt with the situation at hand.

"Oh" Emma swallowed, realizing she had been quiet for far too long.

"Well, you won't have to anymore" she grabbed his little hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, briefly wondering how the boy could be not much younger than her son yet so much smaller than him at the same time. "Because you're gonna stay with me until we find your daddy, remember?"

Harry perked up at that and gave her a shy but happy smile, even as she continued on. 

"Speaking of which.... Who is your daddy?" Emma was genuinely curious.

She had a few guesses on who it could be but none of them really added up considering that the young boy hadn't mentioned having a mother at all when he was rambling about how cool his father was and all of the ones she was thinking of had a love interest.

Eric and Ariel.

Jack Sparrow and Angelica.

Rapunzel and Flynn.

There were so many possibilities and none of them quite fit the information Harry gave her.

Why would Gold have a grudge with any of them? 

Unfortunately for everyone involved—mainly Emma though—, Harry's answer would only bring them more questions.

Not that the little boy knew that, of course; he was too little to realize the consequences of and reactions that his answer would bring.

"Captain Hook."

Emma and a few other patrons of the diner froze. 

This was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter Text

10 very uncomfortable minutes later, Emma led Harry into the loft by the hand. 

Trying to think of what to tell her parents and Henry.

Only to see all three of them in the kitchen when she walked through the door. 

Henry was looking at his book while Snow cleaned the dishes and David dried them.

Right. It was Saturday and David's day off too.

Fuck.

"Uh, Emma. Who is that?" Snow asked, giving her an odd look. One that was mirrored on David's face as he set his dish towel aside.

Emma bit back a groan. She thought that she'd at least have till 4 to explain things to them all.

She really didn't want to do this right now.

She felt Harry press himself into her back, clearly trying to hide from all the prying eyes and knew instantly that she had to get him out of here.

"Hey kid, why don't you take my friend here and show him your book in the other room?" She suggested, giving Harry's hand yet another comforting squeeze. Hoping that Henry would take the hint.

Luckily for her, her kid was smart and it only took him a second to get what she was playing at. She saw the moment it dawned on him, the realization in his eyes.

Though she doubts that it was noticeable to anyone who wasn't searching for it.

"Okay mom." Henry smiled at her, getting up and closing his book before walking over to the two of them.

Harry retreated even further, shooting Emma a worried look.

"It's okay, little guy. He won't hurt you and this won't take long. I promise and his book is really interesting, you'll love it."

Harry bit his lip, eyes going from her reassuring face to Henry's friendly one and gave her hand a tight squeeze before stepping back.

"Okay..."

As soon as the boys were out of the room, Emma turned back to her parents.

"I can explain."

Her parents just looked at her baffled.

"Well, uh.. I..."

Yeah, she had nothing.

She really had no idea how to explain her way out of this one. Especially since she had promised the kid that he could stay with her before talking to her parents.

Before finding out who he was.

Which really didn't matter to her but considering the awkward reactions of everyone back at the diner, it was definitely gonna be a sore spot for some people.

And some people might include her parents. Which she was afraid would end badly for the poor kid she had just taken responsibility for.

She didn't want him to experience that.

It was never fun being the black sheep of the place you were staying in. Or being punished for crimes that weren't your own. 

She knew that from experience.

And it hurt to imagine the wide eyed kid in the room next to her with the same pain she held in her eyes in his.

She couldn't let that happen.

But she also couldn't lose her parents.

It was a difficult predicament to be in.

Snow could tell that she wasn't gonna be able to find a starting point on her own and offered one up. "Why don't you start with who he is?"

Emma offered her mom a small smile before continuing.

"Well, his name is Harry Jones and I found him trying to break into Gold's shop—"

David's eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock at that. "Why in God's green earth would he do something as stupid and reckless as that? He looks like he's five!"

The blonde began to wrangle her hands together, glancing around the room. Avoiding her parents' eyes as she shifted slightly from one foot to the other and her mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

"He's seven actually and it's a funny story—"

Snow raised an eyebrow.

Emma's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, you're right. The story isn't funny at all. He made a deal with Gold to make his dad happy but apparently his dad and Gold have history, so the bastard just sent him away here. And he and Regina made sure that he was completely alone during the curse."

The savior was still very pissed about that and wasn't sure the anger she held towards her son's other mother and the pawnshop owner would be going away anytime soon.

And judging by the looks on her parents' faces, they felt the same.

"What?! That's terrible!" Snow looked repulsed by the mere idea of it all.

Emma couldn't blame her.

"What are we going to do? Where's his dad?" David asked, concerned. "Did Gold do something?"

"I don't know. I panicked and promised to help the kid find his dad but that was before I knew who he was and I told him he could stay here with me till we do because I was afraid Gold would show up and hurt him—"

"Wait. Who's his dad?"

Emma winced and let out a small, nervous laugh.

"Uh, yeah, about that..."

"Your dad is Captain Hook? That's so cool! " Henry said, grinning at the younger boy seated beside him.

Harry immediately ducked his head, blushing and nervously smiled back at him. Already thinking that the older boy was cool.

He was Emma's son, so he had to be, right?

That was Harry's logic anyway.

And the book Henry had was just confirming it.

"Yeah..."

"What's he like? Does this mean you're a pirate too?"

Harry lit up at that, hopping to his feet and grabbing one of Henry's toy swords that laid nearby.

"Aye! And I'm gonna be one of the bestest pirates ever like my daddy is! I'm gonna be just like him one day because he's the very best! "

Henry smiled at the ramble, watching as Harry thrust the sword up into the air. Looking much more at ease than he was when he first walked through the door.

Hopefully, with his help, it would stay that way.

Chapter Text

Killian quietly looked around his room, trying to make sure that he didn’t forget anything as he

clutched his bag in his hand tightly.. 

The curse had been broken and it was time for Cora to enact her plan which required him to go undercover as a blacksmith for some reason he couldn’t fathom until they figured out how to get to the land without magic. 

Where the Evil Queen and the Dark One were. 

He was finally gonna get his revenge on the bloody crocodile who had killed Milah and who had probably done the same to Harry.

His Harry..

His wonderful son who was so much like his mother that it hurt.

His wonderful son who, in retrospect, might not even know who his mother was. 

Something that pained Killian to a degree that he really didn’t want to admit. Because he just couldn’t believe that he had failed his son so badly that he had neglected to tell him who his own mother was. 

Sure, he had been feeling miserable for several years by the time Harry even vanished from his room but that didn’t excuse him not telling his son about the person who had loved him just as much as Killian himself did. And it certainly didn’t excuse Killian allowing his own family to be forgotten by not sharing the few memories he had of them to his poor son.

Killian swallowed. Hard. Before shaking any and all thoughts of his son out of his head as his eyes once again scanned the room. He couldn’t afford getting emotional right now. 

He had to finish packing so he could finish going undercover and avenge his hand, his love, and  his son when the time came. 

His eyes fell on a small portrait he had set up on his dresser—it was one he had had commissioned of him and Harry before the boy had disappeared. Both of them were in their best clothes and both of them were positively beaming—making it Killian’s favorite automatically, despite the fact that Harry’s bangs were in his face, because it was the only picture he had of the two of them.

Killian set his bag aside and dug out Liam’s old satchel from under the bed, and carefully packed the portrait away—being extra careful not to damage the frame or the photo within. Smiling softly as he did so, ignoring the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes.

He missed his son more than anything and wished that he had been a better father and example for him. And he would do anything for another go at it. 

If only the universe would allow it.

Harry stared at the ceiling of the loft from where he laid on the couch. Clutching his teddy bear—Capt'n Krak'n—to his chest as he tried his best not to let his fear show. Even if he knew no one was around to see it.

He hated the dark.

But he hadn’t wanted to bother Emma after she already went to the trouble to give him a place to stay and after she had tucked him in so he didn’t tell her that not so little information. One would have thought that this little fear of his would have disappeared after he spent 28 years (during the curse) on the street but that was not the case. If anything, those years on the street only worsened his fear of the dark. 

Not that he’d tell anyone that, of course.

Anyone other than his father, that is.

Because his father was the only one in the world he trusted fully. 

And now he didn’t know where he was. 

A fact which he hated more than anything. Because how else was he supposed to feel about not knowing where the only parent he had was? How was he supposed to feel about not knowing if his father was even alive?

He wasn’t sure.

Harry wasn’t sure about anything, really. 

Anything but missing his father, that was. 

And he really, really, really did miss his father.

Alot.