#cs mc ff

Prologue

The mist of the sea sprayed against her skin as the wind whipped her golden hair. The wood bit into her palms as she gripped the railing of the ship leaning back enjoying the sea air; listening to the waves crash against the ship beneath them.

“Isn’t this great?” She turns her head upwards to see her father standing just behind her, a smile gracing his features.

“The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face,” He inhales deeply before letting out a sigh, “Perfect day to be at sea.”

Finally looking down at her she smiles back at him.

“A fine strong wind and a following sea,” the gruff voice of a sailor near them caught her ear, “King Triton and Poseidon must be in a fine mood.”

“King Triton?”

“Why ruler of the merpeople your highness,” another sailor answered.

“Merpeople?”

“Yes! Mermaids and mermen, half fish half human, swimming about below this very vessel.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide as she leaned forward, feeling her father’s hands come to rest on either side of her waist, bent in half staring at the water below them, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature the sailor spoke of.

“And King Triton rules over them with a mighty hand. ”

She absorbed every word the sailors said. Her imagination running wild with all this new information. Then she paused, standing up straight once more she turned her attention to the sailors.

“Who's Poseidon?”

“Poseidon is his brother. He rules all the sea and the creatures that live there. Each brother can control the tides and the storms too, so when the sea is restless you know something is a miss in their kingdom.”

Almost as if to prove the sailors point a strong waves rocked the ship, nearly causing the young princess to tumble over if it wasn't for her father hands still griping her sides.

She turned to her father, “Do you think it's true, Papa?”

Her father shrugged, “I’m not sure, Emma. I’ve never seen a merperson.”

“I have.”

They turned to see the lady of the ship finally on deck. Emma raced over to the woman looking up at her, eyes slightly widened, mouth agape.

“Really, Mama?”

Her mother knelt down, gently brushing her daughter's wind swept her from her face. “Really. She was beautiful and very kind and very curious.”

“How come I’ve never heard this story?” Her father asked behind her.

Her mother shrugged looking up at her husband, “You never asked.”

“Will you tell me?”

She looked down at her daughter, “I’d love to.”

Emma's face lit up with her excited smile.

“But another time. You have some studying to do,” the twinkle in her daughter's eyes quickly faded as her mouth turned down into a pout, “Just because we are traveling doesn’t mean you get out of your studies. I promise when we are done I will tell you all about my friend Ariel.”

Her mother stood, grabbing her hand to lead her below deck. Emma dragged her feet but followed her mother, though the pout never left her face until a question came to mind.

“Mama,” she said, catching the woman's attention, “Do you think I could meet a mermaid?”

“Maybe.” The woman thought about her words carefully, not wishing to deject her daughter, “It is rare to see a mermaid, let alone meet one, like I did, but anything is possible.”

They passed by a sailor who had just pulled up a fishing net, detangling their catch. He pulled out one that was slightly too big for his hand, so when it started the squirm as the ship was rocked again, it slipped from his grasp, falling back down to the sea. It swam deeper and farther trying to get away from its captors. It swam right past a young boy.

Following the trail the fish left, the boy saw it lead to the surface. His curiosity got the better of him so he swam up, seeing the hull of the ship cutting through the water. The closer he got the more his curiosity grew, and he reached out his hand towards the ship.

“Killian!”

He turned to see his brother's scowl, “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?”

“I was just-”

“First, you are late! Grandfather has everyone looking everywhere for you! And I find you chasing after a human's ship!”

“I-”

His brother grabbed his hand, beginning to drag him the opposite way of the ship towards their home. “You could’ve been seen! You could’ve been caught in one of their nets! You could’ve been harpooned! You could’ve been killed! Is that what you want? Huh? To be dragged out of the water and hung up to dry in the sun? Is it, little brother?”

“Younger brother,” Killian muttered.

“What?” His brother turned to face him again.

“Nothing happened, just relax.”

“This time! Nothing happened this time. You need to be more careful. You’ll be lucky if I don’t tell Grandfather about this.” Never letting go of Killian’s wrist, his older brother began swimming again.

They swam for a while before reaching an iridescent glowing city. Continuing through until they reach a glittering palace, that currently had many merfolk anxiously swimming around its grounds.

“King Triton, he's found!” a guard called into the palace, as the two boys swam into view.

In an instant the boys found themselves in front of the king himself, relief washed over the grand king's face as he spotted the two boys.

“Killian, thank the seas you're alright,” The older man embarrassed the smaller boy.

The once anxious waters calmed with the king, as merfolk stopped their search and went back to their duties.

“Liam, where did you find him?”

“Um, well.”

At the older boy's hesitation, the king pulled away from the younger, holding him by the shoulders, fixing both of them with a look. “Where did you find him?”

KIllian’s hand found its way to the spot behind his ear, “I was just exploring.”

“Exploring where?” The man's eyes shifted between the two boys as both were seemingly more interested in their tails than in giving him an answer.

With a sigh Liam spoke up, “I found him chasing a human ship.”

“HUMANS!”

Killian flinched, “I was just curious.”

“Killian, how many times must we go over this?! The surface and humans are dangerous!”

“I was being careful. Nothing happened.”

“THIS TIME! You could’ve been seen by one of those barbarians! I’ve already lost two daughters to them! Do you think I wish to lose one of my grandsons as well?! I am never NEVER to hear about you and humans again, is that clear!” The king’s voice boomed with authority off the palace walls.

Killian’s head bowed deeper as Liam gave a quiet “yes sir.”

The king sighed, “What am I going to do with you boys?”

Silence hung in the water between the three of them before the king spoke up again. “You are both to go to your room for the rest of the day. I will have supper sent to you. Neither of you are permitted to leave this palace until I say so. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” the boys answered.

As soon as they did, the king waved them off and they swam to their room.

“I don’t know why he’s so mad,” Killian started, “It wasn’t like I was seen.”

“He’s not mad, Killian. He’s scared. As was I.”

Killian continued as if his brother had never spoken, “And I don’t know why he talks about Ariel as if she's dead. She isn’t.”

“But Mother is.” Liam said pointedly.

Killian turned away at his brother's remark.

“Humans aren't to be taken lightly, little brother. They are dangerous and can be cruel.”

“Younger brother,” Killian muttered. 

They stayed in silence. It was only when they reached their room that Killian spoke up. “I’m not afraid of humans. I could fight.”

Liam chuckled “Oh yeah?”

He nudged his brother who pushed back. Their pushing turned to shoves, which turned to grappling, which turned into an all out wrestling match. They wrestled until Liam pinned him. 

“You were saying, little brother?"

“Younger brother.” Killian stated defiantly as he shoved Liam off him. “Do you think I’ll ever meet a human?”

“For your sake, I hope not,” Liam said just as Killian grabbed onto his shoulder and began round two of their wrestling match.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I should’ve known.” Ruby appeared behind her, holding a glass of whatever she’d picked for her poison tonight. “Don’t tell me you came out just to sit on your phone by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself. Graham’s he-” She turned and saw that the man in question had apparently slipped off with the bartender without her noticing.”Huh. Or maybe not.”

Ruby sighed. “Come on, Emma. You know you wanna watch Mary Margaret kick David’s ass at darts.”

That was a statement she couldn’t argue with. “Hang on. Let me do this first.” But Ruby instead grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the dart boards, causing Emma to hit “add friend” for the first option in her search results without paying much attention to the name or profile picture.

The guy from the bar and the friend request had been forgotten about by the next morning when she woke up with a pounding headache and wondered exactly when she’d started getting old.

The events of that Friday night didn’t cross her mind again until the next weekend. She’d gone to see Captain Marvel with David and Mary Margaret, who were always willing to join her to watch any superhero movie despite both of them losing track of the plot at least half an hour in. It wasn’t the same as getting to experience it with someone as invested as she was, but years of going to the movies by herself when she was younger made Emma grateful for their company regardless.

They arrived at the theater early, battling the lines at the ticket booth and again at the concessions stand for overpriced popcorn and candy. The theater was already filling up after they’d gotten snacks. Emma stepped on quite a few feet to get to the only empty three seats together. Once they were settled, she pulled out her phone and opened the front camera. “Smile, guys!” Mary Margaret got the memo, but David looked like a deer in headlights in their selfie. This was definitely getting posted.

She made a few adjustments to the lighting before posting the photo on Facebook and Instagram. It’s Captain Marvel time!

The lights in the theater dimmed as the first movie trailer began to play on the screen. Emma silenced her phone and dropped it into her purse before grabbing a fistful of popcorn and settling into her seat.

It was over two hours later when the movie had ended and the three of them had arrived back at David and Mary Margaret’s house before she thought to check her phone again. There was a new text from Elsa about the shirt she’d borrowed last week and a handful of social media notifications. She opened Facebook first to see the response to her pre-movie selfie. It was when she started scrolling through the list of various reactions that an unfamiliar name caught her eye. Of course since she’d tagged David and Mary Margaret in the photo, several people who’d liked it weren’t Facebook friends of hers or people she knew. But this one stood out- it belonged to a person she’d never heard of before, and one who was apparently on her friends list.

Killian Jones. She frowned and clicked the link to open his profile page. They had no mutual friends, but sure enough, they were friends with each other. The brief amount of information listed under his personal details told her he lived in London and worked for a company named Ship Shape.

Emma quickly began to question just how she knew this Killian Jones. They hadn’t gone to college together; his profile listed him as an alum of a university in London she’d never heard of. He wasn’t in her line of work, so that wasn’t a possibility.

What if he had been a previous one night stand? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. She rarely got men’s names when those happened, let alone befriended them on social media.

And there was no way she would have forgotten a face like his. His current profile picture was taken from a distance on a beach somewhere, which made his features a bit harder to notice. The handful of previous ones were closer shots though. There were a few that looked like they were taken at some kind of professional event and a selfie with a dog she presumed was his. He was gorgeous, she realized as she quickly flipped through them. Piercing blue eyes, a head of dark hair that successfully toed the line between messy and polished with a five o’clock shadow to match. Yeah, she definitely would have remembered him.

Emma scrolled through a few more photos before she started to feel like she was crossing some sort of line. She had zero ideas on who this Killian Jones even was, and yet there she sat combing through the details of his Facebook profile as if they were close friends.

Contacting him seemed like the most logical thing to do. She opened Messenger, still annoyed that the feature wasn’t included with the regular Facebook app anymore, and typed out a brief message. Hey. Sorry if this seems weird, but I was wondering how you and I knew each other?

Her phone chimed with a response only a few minutes later. Not weird, love. Although I was wondering the same thing considering you’re the one who added me.

She stared at her phone screen and read the message again. There had to be some kind of mix up. Her friends list was on the small side, mostly former classmates and coworkers, and the people she regularly interacted with now. What reason would she have for sending a friend request to Killian Jones all the way in London-

And then it hit her. “Killiam James,” she groaned, remembering the guy from the bar the weekend before. If that was even his name. Emma blamed the combination of beer and loud music for the mix up, which explained why she’d added this guy with such a similar name.

What was she even supposed to say to Killian Jones now? The truth was ridiculous, and she couldn’t think of a lie that sounded even moderately believable.

Honesty won out in the end. “What does it matter? He’s never gonna meet me anyway,” she muttered as she started to reply. So, funny story. I thought I was sending a friend request to a guy with a name that’s really similar to yours and I just now realized my mistake. I’m sorry again because I know how weird this all probably sounds to you.

She hadn’t expected another reply. He’d probably delete her from his friends list after learning the reason behind the mishap and forget all about their brief interaction. What she got instead was a huge surprise. That’s quite alright. I suppose it could have happened to anyone. But, while we’re here, can I ask how the movie was?

Movie? Oh, right. She’d gone to see Captain Marvel tonight. His liking her photo was what started all of this. I liked it a lot. Keep in mind I haven’t read the comics, so I don’t know how accurate anything was. But it’s a great addition to the MCU if you ask me. And the cat was awesome.

I’m glad to hear that. I don’t know much about the comics myself, I just like the films as well. I’ll have to keep my eye out for the cat you speak of when I see it for myself.

This conversation was already a positive changed compared to the ones she usually had about Marvel movies. Most people, men especially, would make fun of her or call her a “fake fan” when she admitted she wasn’t familiar with the comics and didn’t really have plans to change that. Not only was Killian Jones not making fun of her preferences, he actually seemed to share them.

Emma soon found herself discussing everything from Endgame theories to the newest Spider-Man: Far From Home trailer with him. It wasn’t until her eyes grew heavy and she started yawning that she realized it was after midnight. Had this guy really stayed up until five in the morning to talk superheroes with her? Crap. I just realized what time it is. I’m really sorry if I kept you up. You’re probably exhausted.

No worries, Swan- can I call you that? As coincidence would have it, I’m a bit of an insomniac. I likely would still be awake now regardless. Plus, I work for my brother, so he can’t fire me for sleeping on the job unless he wants to lose his kids’ favorite babysitter.

Swan is fine- after all, it is my name. Although I still feel like you may need to apologize to your brother on my behalf.

Truthfully, she didn’t expect to hear from Killian again. Sure, they’d had a long conversation about a shared interest of theirs, but that didn’t mean he had any desire to continue talking to a stranger in the middle of the night. Or at any other time, for that matter.

Which is why Emma was caught off guard when she received another Facebook message from him a few days later. Hello, Swan. I know it’s the middle of the day where you are so you’re probably working, but I just saw Captain Marvel with a friend of mine and I needed someone to discuss the end credits scene with since he’s not nearly invested in this.

Their conversation soon left movies entirely and shifted to their everyday lives. Within the next hour, she learned that he was thirty-one, worked as a marketing executive for the shipping company owned by his brother, was the proud uncle of a nephew and two nieces, and spent most of his free time hiking or reading whatever fantasy novel was next on his to read list. Emma was more hesitant when it came to sharing specifics about herself for several reasons: talking about herself wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed, she barely knew this guy, plus, what if he really wasn’t the person he claimed to be?

If there’s one of us that ought to be suspicious, it’s him, she thought. You added him first; you could be the one Catfishing for all he knows.

Their once sporadic conversations soon became a nightly occurrence, switching from Facebook Messenger to texts once they felt comfortable with sharing numbers. (The short amount of time this took didn’t go unnoticed to Emma. She refused to let herself think too much about it.) Over time, it soon became easier to open up to him about a number of different things. Some days it was her favorite color or flavor of ice cream, others it was conspiracy theories she believed that dealt with people like Marilyn Monroe and Kurt Cobain. Emma rarely brought up her upbringing or personal life, and he never asked.

On nights when Killian’s insomnia was particularly brutal, they watched Netflix together, one of the few pastimes they could share considering the distance between them. They usually chose comedies, preferring shows like The Good Place and Parks and Rec so they wouldn’t miss much of the story if they got caught up in whatever conversation they were having at the same time.

The first phone call happened by accident when they’d been talking about three months. Emma had just got in from work and was debating between Chinese and pizza for dinner when her phone began to vibrate. She froze at seeing Killian’s name on the screen. Why was he calling her? They had never talked outside of Facebook and texts. Phone calls had never even come up once in their conversations.

“H-hello?” she answered after a moment. “Killian?”

“Oi, Jones, is this your girlfriend?” Not Killian then, although another man with an accent who sounded far from sober. She heard some sort of commotion in the background, followed by, “Give me back my bloody phone!”

“Um, hello, Swan.” His voice sounded exactly as she’d imagined. (Not that she’d spent that much time thinking on the subject. Not at all.) The accent was there, of course, but his voice was softer and he sounded considerably more under control than whoever had greeted her. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. Killian, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you calling me? Where are you?”

“Well, you see, a few of us brought Liam to the pub tonight for his birthday, but I realized I’d forgotten to tell you about it earlier. I know you wanted to start Brooklyn 99 tonight since we finished New Girl. Anyway, I was in the middle of typing out a message to you explaining all of this when Will took my phone and called before I could stop him.” He sighed. Emma had a feeling Will would get an earful as soon as this conversation was over; she heard a lot about him from Killian, mostly complaints. “I’m terribly sorry, love. I’m sure this must be awkward for you.”

“It’s fine, Killian. I appreciate you for telling me, but I know you probably have better things to do on a Friday night than watch Netflix with a stranger in Boston.” Although that was the gist of their relationship from an outside perspective, Emma’s heart sank at her own words. She thought more for this virtual stranger than she did most of the people she saw in person on a regular basis.

“Don’t talk like that, Swan. Besides, it would’ve been bad form to leave you hanging without an explanation.”

She should have known he would be a stickler for manners, even for something as trivial as a regular Netflix binge. “Thanks, Killian. Seriously though, go enjoy your night out. Sing ‘happy birthday’ obnoxiously loud to your brother and maybe don’t let anyone else take your phone. We’ll catch up on Netflix later, alright?”

“Alright, love. Goodnight.”

The next time Killian called, it was intentional. Neither of them thought much of it.

The calls (via WhatsApp to keep from spending a fortune) soon became a semi-regular part of their “routine.” They didn’t happen as often as the texts, however, since it was harder to both talk and vaguely pay attention to whatever show they were watching at any given moment. Talking on the phone often made it easy to forget the difference in time zone and the ocean between them, even when Killian said something particularly British, like “tosser” or “knackered.”

She and Killian had their first shared experience with FaceTime the night before the surprise party she and Mary Margaret have planned for David. Emma had been asked to make cupcakes, something she now regretted agreeing to as she stood in her kitchen dumbfounded by the assortment of ingredients strewn out across the counter.

As if on cue, her phone vibrated.

Killian: How are the cupcakes coming along?

Emma: They’re not.

Do I really have to mix the wet and dry ingredients separately? They all go in the same bowl in the end. And how much batter do I put in the cupcake liners without them blowing up like mushroom tops? I don’t get why I had to pick a recipe that calls for baking soda AND powder too.

Basically, I need to be able to snap my fingers and have a professional chef in my kitchen to take care of this.

Killian: I’m no professional, but if you want to FaceTime, I could possibly help walk you through it.

Of course he could. She’d quickly learned that Killian Jones was one of those people who was unfairly good at most if not all things.

Emma opened the camera app on her phone to get a look at her current appearance. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out years ago, her-square rimmed glasses, hair thrown up on the top of her head in a messy knot, and no makeup, not to mention the zit on her chin that she hadn’t gotten the chance to get rid of yet. It would have to do. They were friends, and he already knew what she looked like thanks to social media. And she didn’t have time or energy to freshen up before she got the stupid cupcakes taken care of.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

Her phone screen was taken up by Killian’s smiling face seconds later. “Hello, Swan.”

“Uh, hi.” Somehow he was even better looking in real time. It wasn’t fair. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Come now, love. How hard can it be?”

“Consider who you’re dealing with, Killian. I almost cooked an oven mitt last week.” She didn’t add that it had happened due to their intense conversation on nineties one hit wonders and she’d been so distracted she hadn’t paid attention to where she’d placed the mitt after taking pizza out of her oven.

He barked out a laugh. “Something tells me chocolate cupcakes will smell much better. Do you have the recipe up?”

“Yeah. I’m sending it to you.”

Killian, being the good sport that he was, spent the better part of the next two hours going through the recipe step by step with her. Which was much easier said than done.

“You mean to tell me that not only do I have to mix the wet and dry ingredients separately, but I can only mix half of each together at a time?”

“Aye, that’s what the woman recommends.”

Emma had long since forgotten the name of the woman who’d posted the recipe online, but she had quickly become her worst enemy. “I should’ve just told Mary Margaret to make the damn cupcakes herself.”

“I highly doubt she could’ve gotten away with making cupcakes for her husband’s surprise party in their own house,” Killian noted.

How was it that he seemed to know her own family better than she did. “Yeah, well, then I should have bought cupcakes from the store and brought them to the party on one of my plates.” It would have at least saved the trouble of having a kitchen covered in flour, butter, and the other dozen or so ingredients she’d added to the mix.

She had just began pouring batter into one of the slots in her cupcake tin when Killian spoke up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Swan.”

“Killian, I may have the cooking skills of a dustpan, but I do know that cupcakes have to be baked.”

“Right you are, but what about liners?”

“Come again?”

“You know, the paper things? You’re going to have an awfully difficult time without them.”

Of course. “Shit!” Hurling the mixing bowl at the wall now seemed like a great idea. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”

“Hmm.” She heard the sound of computer keys typing as Killian looked something up. “Do you have parchment paper? Several sites list it as a possible substitute.”

“Wouldn’t that look kind of tacky though?”

“You don’t exactly have a lot of options, love, unless you’re willing to make a trip to the store.”

Emma glanced at the clock above her oven. It was past ten. A handful of stores would be open, but she didn’t have the energy or motivation to change into decent clothes to leave the apartment. “Parchment paper’s fine, I guess. What does it say I’m supposed to do?”

He quickly walked her through the process, which was much simpler than she presumed. After cutting the parchment paper into squares and folding them around a glass that was the same size as the slots in the cupcake pan, the problem was solved. They rewatched one of their favorite episodes of The Good Place while the cupcakes baked. She was so caught up in the show that she wouldn’t have remembered to turn off the oven if Killian hadn’t reminded her.

“So far, so good,” she told him once the pans had been taken out of the oven and placed on her counter. “They smell incredible.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Killian groaned. “The only form of chocolate I have in my flat is unsweetened cocoa powder.”

“Well, that’s just depressing.”

The icing process, while tedious, went over much more smoothly than the baking had.

“Swan, you’ve got chocolate icing all over your cheek now.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve got two dozen nice looking cupcakes. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“I suppose,” he agreed. “Although you’re just giving me something else to make fun of you for.”

He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

She’d gone this far without sampling anything, too concentrated on not botching the cupcakes. But the sound of her stomach growling reminded Emma she’d never eaten dinner. “You think I can justify having a cupcake now if I don’t eat one at the party tomorrow?”

“After all the work you’ve put in, I believe you could justify two.”

“You, Jones, are a bad influence,” she said, taking the nearest cupcake and pulling off the parchment sheet liner.

“A bad influence who reminded you of the importance of cupcake liners.”

“Ugh. I hate it when you’re right.” Emma took a hearty bite of the cupcake and couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. “Ohmgod.”

Killian was quiet for a moment. Then, “I presume it’s good?”

“It’s not good, it’s fantastic. I never thought I’d say that about something I made.” Another bite elicited the same reaction, her eyes closing as she savored the rich chocolate taste. This caused her to miss Killian blush as his eyes shifted away from the screen.

“Erm, well, I’m very glad to hear that.”

The cupcakes, thankfully, are a hit. Several people at David’s party ask Emma for the recipe, a few eve complimenting the unique choice of liners. Her own brother was skeptical that she’d made them herself.

“I did!” she insisted. “I mean, Killian provided moral support via FaceTime, but all the manual labor was my accomplishment.” Her family and friends have known about her unconventional friendship with Killian for awhile now. Most of them went along with the idea, although a few were skeptical that her virtual friend was really the person he claimed to be.

“You and this guy have gotten pretty close, haven’t you?” David was one of those skeptical people.

She shrugged. “Kind of. I guess we’re as close as friends can get when they’re on opposite sides of the pond and have never met in person.”

“And you’re sure he’s not, what’s the word, fishing with you?”

“The term is catfishing, David. And the answer is no, considering we FaceTimed during the cupcake ordeal and his face matches the one in all of his pictures.”

“If you say so. I just don’t want you to risk getting hurt.” He almost always went into Protective Big Brother mode whenever Emma referenced a guy in any capacity, and this was no exception.

“I appreciate that you care about me, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about considering the circumstances. The chances of the two of us meeting are basically nonexistent.”

A few days later, they were on their third episode of Schitt’s Creek of the night and discussing each other’s uneventful work days when he brought it up. “So, uh, Liam has been talking about sending me away for work sometime soon.”

“That’s cool. Does he want you to go back to the Dublin office again?” Emma remembered that he’d taken a short trip to Ireland for business not long after they’d became friends.

“Actually, no.” He paused. “He’s made a few comments about Boston this time.”

Any interest she had in the episode they’d been watching was long gone. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Sometime next month, if nothing changes.”

Her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I know a semi decent tour guide who lives in that neck of the woods if you have some free time while you’re here. And, y’know, if you’d be up for that.”

“I think that could be arranged.” She couldn’t see Killian, but somehow she knew he was smiling.

Emma didn’t start freaking out until the day before his flight. She was at Elsa’s apartment with Mary Margaret and Ruby, drinking wine and eating Elsa and Anna’s homemade cookies at the kitchen table. She was on her third- okay, maybe it was her fourth- snickerdoodle, only half participating in the conversation when she glanced up and saw the three of them staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Mary Margaret gave her a knowing look. “Have you been listening to anything we’ve said?”

“Yeah, of course I have.”

“Emma, I just said that Granny was having surgery next month, and your response was, ‘that’s cool,’” Ruby deadpanned.

Her face flushed red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Just have a lot on my mind I guess.”

“Is something goin- oh!” Elsa exclaimed. “Aren’t you finally meeting that friend of yours from London tomorrow?”

“Yeah. His plane is supposed to come in at two, then I’m meeting him for dinner and a little sightseeing before his meetings start the next day.”

“That’s really all you’ve got planned for him?” Ruby waggled her eyebrows over the rim of her wine glass.

Emma rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Ruby. He’s just my friend.”

“Your very attractive male friend, who you talk either to or about nonstop,” Mary Margaret added.

She shot her an annoyed glance. “I thought family was supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side! I want you to be happy, and I’m just saying maybe you should be open to the possibility that Killian could have something to do with that.”

Leave it to her sister-in-law to bring Emma’s love life (or lack thereof) into the conversation. ““Don’t get any ideas, Mary Margaret. I love that you’re an eternal optimist, but everything else aside, he lives over three thousand miles away. I never thought we would actually meet.”

“People do long distance all the time,” Elsa chimed in. “Anna and Kristoff did for several months when he was away doing research about climate change in the North Pole. It wasn’t easy, but they got through it and are happier than ever now.”

She wanted to remind Elsa that her sister and her fiance had been together for over two years before this, but disregarded the thought. “I know you all mean well- even though it seems like Ruby just wants me to get laid- but can we change the subject? Killian is my friend. That’s all there is to it.”

Even as she said the words, Emma wondered for the first time whether that was actually true.

Her intention had been to sleep in the next morning since she’d gone ahead and taken the day off. But, much to her dismay, she was wide awake at seven. By ten she’d gone for a run, showered, eaten breakfast, and cleaned most of her apartment. It was tempting to blame the random burst of energy on wanting to be productive while she had the time to spend at home, but that wasn’t it.

She was excited to see Killian. And the closer that came to happening, it terrified her too.

For starters, what if they didn’t mesh as well in person as they did online or over the phone? It sounded silly just to think about, but maybe actually being in each other’s space for the first time would somehow change how their friendship worked.

The conversation she’d had with her friends the day before wasn’t helping matters either. What they’d said shouldn’t have been getting to her like it was. Every argument she’d made against their insinuations about her and Killian had been true.

Then why have you barely paid attention to other guys since the two of you started getting close? The thought came to her once she’d started walking laps around the apartment just to keep her busy. Dating for her had been a rare occurrence since Neal almost ten years earlier. Walsh was the one exception, and things with him hadn’t gone much better. One nighters happened now and then when she wanted to scratch an itch without having strings attached. But even one of those hadn’t happened in months.

She didn’t even know whether or not Killian had been seeing anyone. Her first assumption was no. He’d never once mentioned dating, and, regardless, he’d spent the majority of his nights over the past handful of months talking to her. His unconventional friendship with her on top of his job and his family didn’t give her the impression he had a lot of time for dating.

Emma glanced at the clock on her phone. It was just after twelve. “Dammit.” Even with traffic, it would be at least another hour and forty-five minutes before she needed to leave unless she just wanted to drive in circles around the airport.

“Screw it,” she said at one-thirty after she’d won her fourth game of solitaire. TSA might give her hell about parking if she had to wait a bit for Killian, but she couldn’t sit around her apartment much longer without losing her mind.

There was a knock on her door just as she was pulling on her jacket and boots. She went to the door and found her brother standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hey, David.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d catch you in time.”

“In time for what?” she asked. “I’m about to leave for the airport.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m coming with you.”

He’d known she was going to meet Killian today for over a week and had yet to mention this to her. “What? Why?”

“I don’t want you going alone, Emma. It’s not safe; you’ve never met this guy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I could understand if I’d met a guy on a dating site or something, but I’ve known Killian for months now, David. I’m pretty confident that I’m not picking up a serial killer.”

The frown on his face hadn’t budged. “Either way, I’d still like to meet him before I leave you alone with him. Gotta let him know what he’s dealing with if he hurts you.”

Emma checked the time on her phone again. “Ugh. Let’s go,” she groaned. “You’re not gonna let this go, and I don’t have time to argue with you about it.”

Any nerves she’d felt before had briefly been alleviated by the desire to strangle David. The drive to the airport was spent with her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel so she wouldn’t wrap them around his neck instead.

“Are you gonna insist on spending the day with us too?” she asked as she pulled into the airport’s parking lot and looked for the garage for short term parking.

He shrugged. “Not sure yet. Ask me again once I’ve met him and had a chance to evaluate.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’m your older brother. That’s my job,” he insisted.

Emma parked in the short term garage connected to the airport. There was no point in trying to wait at the curb since she knew they’d be asked to move. She and Killian had decided to meet at the landside area, so she sat and waited for a text that he’d arrived and tried to ignore David tapping his fingers against the passenger door.

Her phone vibrated a few minutes later. Hello, Swan. Just wanted to let you know I’m waiting for my luggage and then I should be good to go.

Emma swallowed hard as she got out of the car on shaking legs. This was it.

She was too anxious to object when David followed her out of the garage and into the airport; she’d known better than to expect him to wait in the car for them.

When they’d entered the waiting area, Emma quickly scanned the room for a familiar face, coming up short. This was the place where they’d agreed to meet, wasn’t it? He’d sent her the text just minutes ago confirming their plans. What were the chances the nerves had gone to her head and made her mix something up?

She was so lost in thought she failed to hear the footsteps coming up behind her. “Someone in particular you’re looking for, love?”

They’d FaceTimed on several occasions and shared more ridiculous Snapchats than necessary. Emma knew what to expect. And yet, somehow, she’d been all wrong. His eyes were so much brighter and vibrant in person, there was no way to accurately capture that on camera. There was a tinge of red to his hair and scruff she’d never noticed. She liked it. A lot.

“Hello, Swan.” Shit. His already perfect smile was somehow better in person too. It wasn’t fair.

“Killian. Hi.” How could she have talked to him for hours on end over the past few months and be at a loss for words now?

They stood in silence for a moment, each trying to take the other in. Emma wasn’t sure how she was supposed to greet him. Was their friendship advanced enough to permit a casual hug? Or should she stick to a handshake?

David solved that problem for her, stepping between the two of them and extending his hand to Killian. Emma had all but forgotten that he’d come with her.

“So,” he said, using what could only be called his Protective Big Brother voice, “you’re the British guy.”

“Seriously?!” Emma hissed loud enough for only him to hear as Killian accepted the handshake.

“Aye. And you must be David.”

Her brother looked taken aback. He must have been under the impression Killian had no idea he existed. “Uh, yeah. Emma’s mentioned me then?”

“Oh, yes, several times. She tells me you’re quite the Orioles fan.”

Uh oh. This had the potential to be a recipe for disaster. David did not take comments about his notoriously terrible favorite team lightly. If Killian made any patronizing remarks about the Orioles, any chance at getting on her brother’s good side was doomed.

“I’ve caught highlights from a few games online before,” Killian continued. “Always admired Ripken.”

Emma let out an audible sigh of relief. Killian may very well have been lying through his teeth to appease David, but at least he’d avoided making a bad first impression. “Yes, well,” she butted in, “David’s just here for the ride. We’re dropping him off back at his apartment on our way.” She shot her brother a look that told him not to argue.

The first few minutes in the car were filled with awkward silence as Killian fidgeted in his seat, clearly used to a steering wheel in front of him on the right side, while she tried to ignore David’s presence in the back.

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment as they headed in the direction of David and Mary Margaret’s building.

“All right. Bit of turbulence, but nothing terrible. The airplane food, on the other hand.” Emma saw him cringe out of the corner of her eye and tried not to laugh. “I’ll be more than happy to see what restaurants you have to recommend in the city.”

“Anything particular you’re up for? Most places aren’t gonna be busy at this time of day. And no, he’s not coming,” she added, glaring at David in the rearview mirror before he had a chance to chime in.

Killian pursed his lips. “Eh, would you judge me if I said I just wanted a good, American cheeseburger?”

She laughed. “That was the last thing I expected. But no judgment here, Tony Stark.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that comparison.” He grinned. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…”

“I’m sorry, playboy?” David questioned. Someone didn’t know his movie references.

They arrived in front of David’s building minutes later. “Okay, here we are, you’re welcome for the ride home, talk to you later, bye.” Emma must have gotten her point across since he got out of the car with no objection other than a shake of his head.

“I’m really sorry about that.” She glanced at Killian apologetically as she pulled back out into traffic. “I didn’t know he was going to show up and insist on coming with me, or I would have warned you.”

“It’s quite alright, Swan. He was just looking out for you. If I’m being truthful, not wanting you to be alone when you met someone you’d come across online isn’t an unreasonable request.”

“I totally get that to a certain extent, but I know you well enough to trust that you’re not, like, a serial killer. Unless you have something you wanna tell me.”

He barked out a laugh. “Rest assured, love, I have no blood on my hands. At least, none but my brother’s when we were lads.”

“Let me guess, it was always Liam who started it?”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

Traffic was light at that point in the afternoon, the two of them arriving at Emma’s chosen destination sooner than she was expecting. “This place might not look like much,” she told him as she pulled into a parking spot in front of Granny’s, “but she’s got the best burgers and fries, excuse me, chips, in town as far as I’m concerned.”

“And grilled cheese and onion rings as well, I presume?”

“You’re a smart man, Killian.”

The diner was fairly empty as well, just an older couple drinking milkshakes at the bar and a group of college students crowded around a table with a stack of textbooks.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?” she asked Killian.

“No. It’s your pick.”

They took a booth near the back of the diner. Emma handed him one of the plastic menus and flipped through one herself, even though her order had been virtually the same over the years. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt her to branch out a little more with her choices, even if it was just getting a burger or chicken club instead of a grilled cheese for once.

A waitress came to take their orders after a few minutes. Killian requested the cheeseburger he’d wanted with fries, the American term sounding foreign on his lips. She ordered the same.

“No grilled cheese and onion rings? Are we sure this is the real Emma Swan?” Killian asked, feigning concern.

She shrugged. “I’m trying to live a little. And for someone like me, that’s apparently as simple as ordering a burger. Or maybe you’re just a bad influence,” she teased.

“Oi! I wasn’t a bad influence when I helped you make cupcakes in your time of need.”

“Yeah, yeah, technicalities.”

There was a long pause as Emma tried to figure out what to say next. She wondered if Killian was having similar thoughts. This was an easier problem to remedy when they were texting or talking on the phone and she could turn the conversation to whatever show they were on at the time. Even still, there wasn’t the added component of having him across from her to sense any awkward tension between them.

Killian broke the ice. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Swan, have you ever seen One Day At a Time? Been seeing a lot about it online lately.”

“I haven’t actually.” She should have remembered most of their best conversations began with shows. “You know how I feel about good sitcoms though.”

“Aye. Perhaps we’ll add it to our unofficial to watch list?”

“I like the way you think, Jones.”

They talked for awhile about the season of Schitt’s Creek they were working on until the waitress brought their food a few minutes later. The conversation had somehow turned to which of Moira’s wigs would look best on him. It was hard not to laugh as Killian nearly swallowed his beloved cheeseburger whole.

“Don’t judge me,” he said through a mouthful of fries when he noticed Emma snickering. “I was bloody starving.”

“Clearly.” She dipped one of her own fries in the generous pile of ranch dressing on the side of her plate. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have so easily done away with all that English charm us Americans aren’t civilized enough to have.”

“What do you mean ‘done away with’? I’ll have you know I’m always charming, love.”

“Says the man who has ketchup on his chin.”

Killian’s face reddened as he grabbed a napkin and wiped off said ketchup. It was barely enough to be noticeable, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit.

As they ate, the conversation shifted from shows to Killian’s work and what he’d be doing in Boston over the next few days. She didn’t know much about his job, other than that he worked for Liam and their company provided parts and equipment for ships. While the company’s primary clientele was located in the London area near their home office, they were looking to expand to other areas as well, hence the meetings Killian had flown over to attend.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why were you the one to make the trip instead of Liam?” she asked. “I don’t really know how a lot of business procedures work, but it seems like he would be the one to handle stuff like that considering he’s over everyone else.”

“Aye, you would think so. But the truth of the matter is, Liam’s tied up with so much within our office. Not to mention he doesn’t like making trips now since he’s got Belle and the kids. From both of those angles, it makes more sense for me to handle as much of the international business as I’m qualified for since I truly have nothing tying me down in London nowadays.”

Emma hated the way her heart skipped a beat at his words. If he had nothing tying him down at home, did that also mean there was no girlfriend there too?

(Could she ask him something like that without him seeing right through her?)

“That’s, uh, great,” she told him, trying to get back to the point of the conversation. “That you’re able to travel for him. I’m sure you get a lot of cool opportunities and stuff.”

“Opportunities like getting to eat an American cheeseburger while I have a face to face conversation about sitcoms?”

“Exactly.”

Killian asked a handful of questions about her job, how she liked her boss and coworkers, if she’d dealt with any major cases lately.

“Not really. It’s mostly the usuals, cheating husbands and deadbeat parents.”

He frowned. “Pity situations like those occur enough to be ‘usuals.’”

“It’s enough to make me want to throw in the towel sometimes if I’m being honest. These people are lucky enough to have a family in the first place, and they just throw it to the side like it means nothing to them.”

Emma didn’t realized what she’d said until it was too late. While she’d become comfortable enough with Killian to share certain details about her personal life over the past few months, her upbringing in foster care was the one subject she’d avoided. She’d heard stories of his and Liam’s upbringing by their single mother, who died when Killian was in college. The only family she’d ever mentioned to him was David, and he didn’t even know they weren’t actually siblings.

But that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have at Granny’s in the middle of the afternoon. She wasn’t sure how much time he had free to spend with her, or when she would see him again. If you even will, she thought.

Sensing her discomfort, Killian reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “Is everything alright, love?”

The feeling of his hand in her own stopped Emma’s train of thought. She almost hated how comforting it was. “Yeah, it’s nothing.” She gave what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. There was no need to waste her time with him focusing on bad memories. “What do you say we pay the bill and go do some sight seeing? Boston isn’t New York or LA, but it can be fun. I think so anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

They bickered at the cash register over who was going to pay. Killian wanted to be a gentleman, Emma wanted him to feel like her guest in some way. She somehow won. “You can buy me a bear claw at my favorite bakery later if you really want to,” she told him as she swiped her debit card through the reader and he stood to the side pouting.

She and Killian were heading for the door when a familiar face entered the diner. The sight of Ruby made Emma consider grabbing Killian and hiding him.

“Emma!” Her friends’ eyes lit up when she spotted them, red lips breaking out into a grin.

“Hey, Rubes. I didn’t think you were working today.” She would have taken Killian to eat somewhere else otherwise. Emma loved her friend, but something told her Ruby would have less of a filter than usual around him.

“I wasn’t, but Ashley had a doctors’ appointment and asked me to cover her shift.” She glanced around Emma to get a look at Killian. “Oh, is this the English guy? You didn’t tell me he was hot.”

The urge to crawl under the nearest table was tempting. “Uh, yeah,” she said, her face reddening, even more so when she realized it sounded like she was agreeing with Ruby’s comment. She turned to Killian. “This is my friend, Ruby. Granny’s is, well, her grandmother’s.”

Ruby held her hand out to him. “It’s so nice to  put a face with the name. Emma talks about you all the time.”

Emma shot her a death stare as Killian accepted the handshake and brought her hand to his lips. “It’s a pleasure, love. I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well.”

“Such a charmer.” Ruby’s grin widened. “I love it.”

“Yeah, well, we were just leaving, and I know you have to get to work.” She grabbed Killian’s hand and pulled him out the door before Ruby had another chance to embarrass her. “Bye!”

Emma groaned as soon as the door to Granny’s had shut behind her. “I’m sorry about that. She means well, but she tends to come off a bit strong.”

“No worries, Swan. I can’t say I have many objections with a woman who so freely acknowledges my good looks.” He smirked, and she couldn’t help but think how much she wanted to kiss the smile off of his face.

Which she wasn’t going to do. Because that would be ridiculous. “Yeah, I’m never gonna let her live that down.”

She moved her car to a free public lot and spent the next hour with Killian, walking around downtown Boston to show him some of her favorite spots in the area. She pointed out the precinct where she often dropped off bail jumpers, the library, her favorite coffee shop, and the bakery that made the best bear claws in town.

“You can definitely return the favor from lunch now,” Emma told him when they entered the shop and she caught a whiff of something that smelled like butter and cinnamon.

“Whatever the lady wishes.”

“The lady definitely wishes for a bear claw. Or five.”

In the end she requested one, although Killian told the attendant to add another to her bag. “In case you’d like one for the weekend and don’t feel like making the trip.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll let it go uneaten for that long.”

They sat at a bench outside the bakery since the weather was nice. Mid September in Boston was often ideal since it was still warm without being unbearably hot. Emma took one of her bear claws out of the paper bag and bit into it, letting the warm dough melt in her mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she told Killian, who had started eating his blueberry scone.

“I’ll take your word for it, Swan. You know I’m not fond of raisins.”

“Whatever.” She feigned disappointment. “More for me.”

It occurred to Emma that she had yet to ask another important question. She had no idea how long he would be in Boston, and if she would get to see him again after today. Killian had mentioned in previous conversations that he had a handful of meetings over the following two days, but nothing about what his schedule looked like or when he would be flying back.

Killian picked up on her unspoken apprehension. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love?”

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Hadn’t she decided she wasn’t going to waste time worrying while he was there? “It’s nothing,” she insisted again. Killian’s expression suggested he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press the issue.

“Did I tell you my nephew is into Peppa Pig now?” she asked, knowing he might like this change of subject. “He’s, like, fascinated with the British accents and tries to talk like the characters all the time now. It’s hilarious.”

His eyes lit up. “Is that so? I like this lad already. Although I do prefer Percy Pigs myself. It’s a type of candy,” he explained when her eyebrows shot up. A quick Google search provided a photo of what he was referring to, which was, as suggested, a gummy in the shape of a pig’s head.

It was weird, if she was being frankly honest, but Leo would love them. “Kid’s definitely getting an order of these for his next birthday.”

Emma finished her bear claw and wiped her mouth with a napkin from the bakery. But she must have not done an adequate job. Killian leaned over. “You missed a spot, love,” he said, brushing his thumb at the corner of her mouth. Any reply she had was forgotten with the gesture as she became hyper focused on the brief but startling feeling of his touch.

“Uh, thanks.” The words came out raspy and uneven.

Her reaction seemed to make Killian realize what he’d done. “Apologies, Swan. I wasn’t thinking.”

Killian’s posture changed as he leaned slightly to the left, eyeing something in the dim light. He clicked his tongue a couple of times and tugged the reins to lead the horse not toward the village, but in the direction of a structure in the shadows.

Through the thick brush on the side of the road, the horse carried them up to a most and ivy-covered cottage. The thatched roof had some charred scars, but the stone structure seemed sound.

“Stay here,” Killian muttered as he dismounted the horse. Emma wasn't sure if he was talking to her or their ride, but she complied nonetheless. She watched as the pirate brandished his sword and cut through the thick coating of ivy. He pushed the greenery aside to reveal a wooden door. With a soft click, the door swung open on sketchy, creaking hinges. Killian disappeared inside as Emma waited with bated breath.

There was a brief silence before the pirate emerged. He flashed a smile of pride and gestured to the cottage.

“Your accommodations for the evening, Milady.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “What's in there?”

Killian shrugged and approached the horse, loosening the saddlebag straps. “Few cobwebs, a crumbling fireplace with a fairly clear flue, and most importantly, a bed with a roof over it.”

With a sigh of contentment, Emma smiled and slid down off of the horse with the pirate's assistance. She lifted her skirts and trudged through the low brush before ducking into the small house. It had clearly been abandoned sometime before their arrival. She imagined the fire which destroyed half of the roof to have been the catalyst for such upheaval. A broom laid on the floor beneath an ivy-choked window. She bent and picked it up, lifting the implement to brush away a few of the larger cobwebs and scoot piles of burnt straw toward the fireplace.

“I'll start a fire, and then I'm afraid I'll have to go into the village in search of sustenance. Whatever Marian made for us got left behind when Blackbeard confronted us.” Killian scratched behind his ear.

Emma paused and bit down on her lower lip. She watched as Killian knelt upon the hearth and brushed a few leaves and debris aside. He dug into his rucksack and carefully switched his prosthetic hand for his hook.

Sparks flew as he struck his hook against a spot in the hearth. A couple of them ignited the leaves and a familiar scent, one reminiscent of autumn bonfires, filled the empty space. Killian nudged the smoking leaves toward a pile of smaller sticks. He leaned down further and blew gently. A shiver ran down Emma's spine. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. Her mind swirled with visions of those perfect lips blowing warm air against her neck, teasing her as his hand roamed along the tender skin inside her thigh.

Killian stood and brushed his hand on the side of his leather trousers. “I'll be back in a few. Hopefully with some firewood as well.”

His words startled Emma from her lustful reverie and her eyes snapped open. With a curt nod, she acknowledged his statement.

“Yeah, sure. Be careful.”

As if the situation wasn't ready complicated, she was finding herself fantasizing about the man who had sold his most prized possession for her. Was it possible that she was finally admitting he could actually be in love with her? Was she falling in love with him, too? Emma shook her head and returned to tidying up the cottage. In a back corner near the bed, which was still little more than a straw mattress, she found a box with a few candles inside. There was also a rolled-up piece of leather, tied with a ribbon.

After lighting the candles and situating them in a few areas in need of light, Emma untied the leather roll. She found a small bottle of ink, a feather quill, and a few curled, yellowed pieces of parchment. She tapped at the glass bottle with thought.

Taking a seat upon the bed, Emma opened the bottle of ink and dipped the nib into the black, viscous liquid within. She touched the quill to the parchment and drew in a deep breath.

Dear Henry,

If you find this letter, it's possible you are living in Storybrooke with your Mom, Regina. You may not know that I am your biological mother. My name is Emma Swan.

In another life, we were together. Magic allowed me to have memories of raising you. I was so happy, kid. I really was. But magic reared its head once more and I ended up in the Enchanted Forest of the past. It's a long story, but there's a chance I won't make it back to the future. I wanted you to know how to find me, if I end up cursed in Storybrooke as well.

Emma went on to describe herself and Killian. She indicated that he should get the two of them together with Mary-Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan. She explained that Mr. Gold was really to blame and that he may know more than he revealed to them. Most importantly of all, she explained that a kiss of true love could break the in Storybrooke and allow them to find each other again.

A gentle rain began to fall. The open part of the roof, a small spot near the fireplace, allowed the rain to trickle down onto the bare dirt floor. She looked to the door, hoping Killian would return shortly.

Glancing back down at her letter, Emma signed off with a message of hope and love. She watched the ink soak into the parchment before folding the letter into something she could easily hide for safe keeping. Should their mission fail, she would tuck the letter into an object she knew would survive the trip to Storybrooke.

The rain began to fall more heavily as Emma placed the letter in the pocket of her skirt. With a sputter and a laugh, Killian made his way in through the rickety door and into the shelter of the cottage.

“That was an ill-timed excursion,” he chuckled, placing his rucksack and a bundle of firewood on the floor. The heaviness of the bag indicated the trip had at least been successful.

“You're soaked!” Emma laughed, moving to help him. “You'd better get out of this before some kind of plague infects you.” She reached up and pushed at the sodden lapels of his jacket. The coat came away, leaving him in his black shirt and suspenders. He slid the suspenders from his shoulders and tugged the shirt from his body. She examined the elaborate leather straps which wound over his shoulders to secure the brace on his left arm. It was the first time she’d seen it, and she found herself sympathetic to the pain he must have endured when he lost his hand.

Emma watched as he situated his shirt near the fire. His muscular back was scarred from ...really any number of pirate escapades. More pain. Had he ever truly known anything but anguish? The glow from the fire, onto which he tossed a few extra logs, illuminated his face in a way she had never seen. As he stood, he made a move in the direction of his bag. Emma stepped in his way.

With a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrow, Killian frowned. “Swan?”

“Did you really trade your ship for me?”

She watched his gaze soften. He gave the slightest of nods. “Aye.”

For a moment, Emma searched his deep blue eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering. With a breath, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Killian hesitated for only a moment before he leaned into the kiss, sliding an arm around her back. Emma slid her hands up over his shoulders, her fingers finding the nape of his neck, wandering up into his hair. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

The rain continued to pour outside as Killian bent at the knees and swept her up into his arms. The bed at the back of the cottage was definitely lacking, but it would do for now. His eyes were focused on her, pupils blown wide and dark with need. Killian knelt onto the straw mattress as a low rumble of thunder clapped miles away.

“Do I presume too much?” He whispered, reaching up to brush her hair back from her eyes.

There had always been a twinge of nervous energy when she had been with Neal or Walsh or any of the other flings along the way, but with Killian, all she felt was desire. It felt right. She shook her head and drew his hand down to the front of her bodice, where she gave the laces a good tug to loosen them. She met his gaze in the dim candlelight. “Not at all.”

For too long, Emma had avoided Killian’s advances, considering them an invitation to a fling of some kind. His very nature seemed inclined toward one-night-stands and throwaway romances. Any of which could seriously complicate her life in Storybrooke. But when had life in Storybrooke ever been uncomplicated?

In that moment, seeing his true colors, she wondered why she had waited so long to truly get to know him. As ridiculous as it was that she was bedding Captain Hook, he was so much more than a figment in a story. He was made of flesh and blood. And so was she.

Emma’s back arched up off of the bed as he tugged her dress away from her shoulders. Her breasts bared to him, he sighed low with contentment and buried his face between them, inhaling her scent. She blushed like a schoolgirl as he suckled at her skin, but the warmth that pooled in her belly was unmistakably wanton. He kissed along her body; the scratch of his beard against her taut stomach sending shivers down her spine.

Killian took his time with her, caressing her skin with tender touches and longing kisses. By the time he made his way back up to her lips, she was aching with need. Emma wasted little time in wrapping herself around him. She slid her legs around his backside and pushed down his trousers before pulling him deep inside of her with a low moan of satisfaction. Killian grunted and whispered into her ear as he rocked his hips, slow and deep against her body.

“You’re beautiful, Emma,” he hummed, nipping at her earlobe. “Bloody gorgeous…”

They moved together, their bodies entwined, as the storm passed over their tiny overnight dwelling. Time passed slowly as they made love, exploring one another for the very first time. Before long they were both completely spent, coming down from an extraordinary high reached in each other’s arms.

The steady crackle of the fireplace accompanied their slow breathing as their bodies settled into the bed. A soft, warm breeze swept through the cottage, filling the room with a scent of fresh rain. Emma’s face was buried in Killian’s neck, one arm draped lazily over his chest. Her body was entirely sated, and her breathing was slow.

Killian pressed his lips to the top of her head, his hand on her back. “Hungry, love?” He whispered. Emma wasn’t sure whether he was being bashful in their post-coital moment or polite in case she had fallen asleep.

“Mmm, yes,” she muttered against him, kissing a tender bit of skin between his neck and shoulder.

With obvious reluctance, he pulled away from her and tugged on his trousers before moving to his rucksack near the door. Emma admired the sight of him, his pants hanging loosely around his hips, a tuft of dark hair peeking from the open buttons of the fly. His body was strong, despite the scars he wore. And even though he was physically handicapped, his performance had most certainly not suffered in the least.

Emma laid on her side, her long blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders. A thin blanket laid loosely upon her hips. As Killian turned back to her with their meager dinner, he paused and cocked his head to the side, admiring her in the dim light.

“Keep looking at me like that, Swan, and you won’t have time to eat,” he muttered with a wicked smirk.

She bit down on her lower lip and patted the bed, beckoning him back to her. He obliged, placing the bread, cheese, and apples on the thin bed sheet beneath them.

Emma plucked a bit of bread from the loaf and popped it into her mouth. “This place isn't all that bad,” she mused, glancing around the cottage.

“I imagine someone could restore it with ease,” Killian replied before biting into an apple. He surveyed the missing area in the roof as he chewed thoughtfully. “Wouldn't take much effort.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm was moving further away.

“If we can't find the Black Fairy, maybe...maybe we could come back here,” she pulled a crumble from the block of cheese, avoiding his eye.

Killian's gaze narrowed. “As in...you'd want to live here, together?”

She shrugged, licking her lips. “There's a possibility we're stuck. I guess I thought we would just make the most of it.”

“I could live with that,” Killian replied, his tone soft. He leaned in and placed a tender kiss against her lips. “But first, we'll work on getting you home.”

How dare he send her flowers with a rude card? Who the the hell does he think he is? They kissed one time (a fact which Emma is trying to forget about). Since then they have seen each other, but their friends have usually been around. Nothing has been said, however there have been some small touches and glances exchanged. Glances where she feels like he can see through her and into her soul. They never last long because she always looks away because his gaze is too intense, too knowing. Like he knows that there are some nights she fantasizes about that kiss before scolding herself for doing so.

He’s supposed to the asshole friend of her brother. Killian Jones is supposed to be the bane of her existence, the man who she fights with constantly and now she has fantasies about him. She doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Now, he sends her flowers to what be a dick? What was the point? He always had to be an ass.

August (her boss and friend) walks up to her desk in the bail bonds office with a smirk on his face.

“Who are the flowers from?”

“No one important,” she sighs, leaving them on her desk. They were simply too pretty to throw away that would be a waste.

“A likely story. Someone from your weird friend group?” August pushes.

“Yeah something like that,” she grumbles and August just smirks again.

“Fill out this form for insurance bullshit.” August hands her a packet of papers and she glares at him.

“All of it?” It was already almost five and Emma really wants to go home. All she wants to wear sweatpants, watch netflix, and maybe drink some wine. No, definitely drink some wine.

“I just need the first five pages from you the rest is for me,” he reassures her. Emma just nods and sits down at her desk. Before getting started on the paperwork Emma pulls out her phone. Killian is going to get a piece of her mind.

ES: Seriously? You’re sending me flowers on Valentines Day to  be dick? Real smooth move. Emma smiles, satisfied with her response. She silences her phone and places it face down on her desk to focus on the packet in front of her. The paperwork doesn’t take too long and she’s out of there in under an hour. She gives it to August before leaving for the night with the flowers in tucked in her arm. He gives her a bemused look before telling her goodnight.

Back at her apartment Elsa is waiting for Emma with a bottle of wine in hand.

“I never should have given you a key,” Emma grumbles and Elsa’s eyes go wide at what Emma is carrying.

“You love me and you know it. I sent you a text that I’d be here didn’t you get it?” Elsa asks still eyeing the bouquet in Emma’s arms.

“I didn’t check my phone on the way home. It’s been a long day,” she sighs as she takes off her jacket.

“Well good thing I brought some wine then isn’t it?” Elsa smirks, searching for Emma’s bottle opener.

“You must have read my mind. The next drawer down,” Emma directs her. Elsa finds it and gets to work opening the bottle.

“So are we going to talk about the flowers?” Elsa asks as Emma pulls down two glasses for them.

“Are we going to talk about why you’re not with Liam?” Emma throws back at her.

“Liam had to stay late, so we pushed dinner back. Your turn,” Elsa says with a raised eyebrow.

“Killian just sent them to be a dick. I have no clue what possessed him to do such a thing, but there you go,” Emma shrugs and Elsa pours her a generous amount of wine.

“Killian Jones sent you flowers?!?! The same Killian who you fight with constantly? The same one who can never take his eyes off you? The same one you claim to hate?” Elsa asks in a surprised tone.

“Yes that one, do we know another Killian Jones?” Emma takes a very big gulp from her wine glass.

“No, but that is not the point, Emma. How do you know he was being a dick?” Her friend asks thoroughly confused.

“Read the damn, card!” Emma throws her hands into the air. Elsa sets down her glass and picks the card out from the flowers. She looks from the card to Emma to the card again.

“How is this being a dick, please explain?” Elsa asks her.

“He insulted me with flowers!” Emma places her hands on her hips, not sure why Elsa was not getting whatever was going on here.

“Where is the insult?”

“The shouting thing,” Emma says with a shake of her head. Elsa just glares at her.

“Did you get a concussion today? Is that what happened at work? Because if you didn’t I don’t know how you’re this stupid.” Elsa snaps.

“No, I did not. What on earth are you talking about?” Now it’s Emma’s turn to be confused.

“This card says he likes you, idiot. He literally said he fancies you when you’re not yelling at him. He sent them to be nice. What the hell made you think he was being a dick?” Elsa practically yells.

“I-” Emma begins, but really she has no idea how she missed that, “I don’t really know.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head today?” Elsa asks concerned.

“No, just a light stabbing, I had to go to the ER and they checked me out. No head injury,” Emma tells her.

“A LIGHT STABBING!?! Emma, what the hell?” Elsa says looking at her friend with a lot of concern.

“The knife grazed me. I needed a couple stitches,” Emma shrugs.

“We will come back to that another time, I assure you. Did you say anything to Killian about the flowers?” Elsa asks her annoyed.

“Yes…” Emma cringes. Elsa just rolls her eyes.

“Give me your phone,” Elsa says simply with her hand out reached. Emma slaps the phone into her friend’s hand. Elsa quickly unlocks it and opens her messages.

“Oh my god, Emma! Really?” Emma nods, not making eye contact with her friend.

“How bad is it?” Emma asks.

“Well would you like to know his response?” Elsa asks. Emma rushes over to Elsa’s side to see what he said.

KJ: What are you talking about? Then a few minutes later. KJ: Swan, I have no clue what happened, but I didn’t mean to be a dick.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Emma mutters.

“Yeah I think you need to apologize to him,” Elsa tells her. Emma throws her head back and ignores the urge to stomp her foot like a child.

“I have to?” Emma asks. Elsa places her hand on shoulder.

“Yes, you do. Now, I have to leave to meet Liam. Please do the right thing and apologize,” she tells Emma.

“Fuck, you’re right. I promise I will,” Emma says, annoyed with her own stupidity. Elsa gives her a hug.

“Good and I want to hear all about it,” Elsa says as she shrugs on her coat. Emma just nods and shuts the door behind her friend. God dammit. She really should apologize to him. Emma pulls out her phone and opens her messages.

ES: Okay I was an idiot. Are you home? I’d like to explain myself. Emma sends it before she can really think about it. She should explain in person because texting isn’t really her strong suit. Clearly. A few minutes later her phone pings.

KJ: Yes, come over whenever you’re ready. Emma slips on her jacket and grabs her keys before leaving. Killian doesn’t live far from her so she walks there, thinking about what she should say to him. She gets to his building and he buzzes her up. She stops in front of his door, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. How the hell should she even explain this to him?

Finally, she knocks and he comes to the door. Killian has a look of uncertainty on his face.

“Can I come in?” she asks. Killian steps to the side.

“Of course,” he says quietly. She steps in and he shuts the door behind her. Damn him he looks really good in his gray henley and black jeans.

“So I had a bad day at work, not really an excuse, but for some reason I thought you were trying to be a dick with flowers. It doesn’t quite make a lot of sense, but you know I was being an idiot. Anyway, I am sorry for sending that text and being a complete ass when you did something that was actually very nice,” She says quickly under his intense gaze.

“Thank you for apologizing. I must admit I was quite confused by the whole ordeal. Would you like drink?” he asks her.

“What? You want to have a drink with me?” she asks, surprised. This is not how she saw this going at all. She thought he’d taunt her or be an ass about it (which she would totally deserve).

“It’s certainly not the first time you’ve called me a dick and I doubt it will be the last,” he chuckles and she shrugs, “I meant what was on the card. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss on New Years and well honestly it sounds like you need one,” he shrugs.

“Oh okay. Sure,” she nods.

“Please take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he nods toward the couch. She sits down, finally relaxing for the first time today.

“I’m afraid all I have is rum, not your usual whiskey,” he tells her from the kitchen.

“Rum is perfectly fine,” she tells him from her spot on the couch. He walks over two glasses in hand and passes one to her. She accepts and he sits next to her on the couch.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Do you want to talk about your day or sit in silence until the food I ordered arrives?” he asks her. Emma’s thrown by this interaction entirely. She’s known Killian Jones for a while and really has only seen the asshole side of him. The one that teases her constantly or fights with her. Right now, he’s being nice and thoughtful. She’s never seen him like this. Ever.

“You ordered food?” she asks.

“Aye, some chinese. I ordered enough for two, you’re welcome to some,” he tells her.

“Yeah that’d be nice,” she admits right before her stomach grumbles. He smiles at this and she chuckles.

“Everyone was an ass today, that’s all. Oh and annoying paperwork,” she adds. She won’t tell him about the gun wielding skip or the almost stabbing, he would just tell David. She definitely doesn’t need a lecture from her brother right now.

“I understand annoying paperwork, all too much,” he tells her. Not too long after the buzzer rings and Killian hops up to answer it. When Killian brings the food in the smell is amazing and Emma is about ready to eat her own hand. She gets up to see what he ordered.

“Swan, I would’ve brought it to you,” he tells her.

“I’m sure you would’ve, but I’m curious and I want to know what you ordered,” she scoffs. He just rolls his eyes.

“Potstickers, shrimp lo mein for me and kung pao chicken for you,” he tells her.

“That’s my favorite, how did you know?” she asks confused.

“I’m more observant than I appear, Swan,” he says before handing her the container and chopsticks. Both starving they shovel down the food quickly without much conversation. Killian turns on Netflix and they watch some show Emma’s seen before. They still don’t say much, except for some laughter here and there. Emma’s pretty sure this is the longest they’ve gone without fighting before. They usually fight and bicker, but tonight she has seen a completely different side of him. He’s kind and thoughtful, all the things she thought he wasn’t. Could she have been wrong about him this whole time?

Emma looks over at him and finds his striking blue eyes on her. Since she’s caught him staring at her Killian blushes. Without really thinking about it she leans over and kisses him because well she wants to badly and she can’t think of a reason to not kiss him. Killian’s hand caresses her cheek, his other hand on her hip pulling her closer. Emma shifts quickly, straddling him. One of her hands tangled in his hair. God, kissing him is like nothing else. His soft lips and light, exploring touches. However when his hand touches where her stitches are she pulls away and winces.

“Emma, are you okay?” he asks, concerned. His eyes searching hers.

“I did say today was bad, right? This skip tried to stab me and his knife may have grazed me a little bit,” she shrugs, not looking him in the eye.

“Emma, you have to be careful,” he tells her before pulling up her sweater to examine her wound. He finds gauze covering the stitches.

“I went to the ER and I was being careful that would be why I’m alive and not dead in an alley,” she tells him. His hand is on her cheek once again, the touch light and caring.

“You know what I mean. No wonder you had such a bad day,” he says understanding her turmoil and she bites her lip.

“Please don’t tell David,” she says quietly. He gives her a distressing look.

“I- all right I won’t,” he nods. He wanted to say like hell he would, but it would just cause more trouble for her.

“Thank you, he just worries too much,” she explains. Killian nods. David worries a lot about Emma and her job. David has always felt the need to protect her at all costs. Emma interrupts his train of thought by kissing him once again. He could kiss her for all of his days and never complain. Her hands make their way under his shirt and he helps her get her sweater off. Killian’s careful to not touch the gauze covered area again. All the kissing and tender touches leaves Emma’s skin on fire and she wants more. More of him. She pulls away, leaning her forehead against his.

“Bedroom?” she asks feeling his erection growing beneath her.

“Are you sure?” he asks her.

“Positive,” she says, never wanting anything more. He grasps her back pulling her closer into him. He stands carefully holding onto her. Emma wraps her legs around him. She surges forward kissing him again. He guides the toward his room the best he can. To be quite honest the beautiful blonde in his arms is very distracting. Especially when she grinds down on his erection. The little minx.

Emma leans back to open the door one handed holding onto Killian tightly with the other.

“Thank you, love.” She smiles as he carries her into the room. He gently lies Emma down on the bed and they both work quickly to remove their pants and his shirt. Killian carefully peels her underwear off before pushing his own boxers to the ground. Every touch he gives her is light and caring, and damn does it feel good. She tries to sit up, but winces and falls back. Killian’s eyes find hers.

“Love, lie back. Let me take care of you,” he tells her and she nods, not trusting her own voice. She never lets anyone take care of, she never lets anyone see her this vulnerable. He takes her hand in his and presses a kiss into it. She blushes. Killian drops her hand and begins trailing kisses up her thighs. His thumb reaches her clit and rubs small circles. He places several kisses on her outer lips before capturing her clit with his lips. Emma bites her lip at this. Killian slides one finger inside of her and then another. Emma let’s go of her lip and lets her moans fill the bedroom. His lips leave her clit and their eyes meet.

“That’s it love let me hear you,” he smirks with a few aggressive pumps of his fingers. When his lips come back to her clit she calls out his name. He feverishly moves his fingers in and out of her and moves his tongue over her clit until he can feel her walls flutter around him. She lifts her head up and their eyes meet.

“I need you inside of me, now,” she tells him before pulling him closer. He’s careful with her, not wanting to pull out any of the stitches she received today. He rolls on a condom before sliding into her. They release sounds of pleasure. Killian never imagined his day quite ending like this. He’s found her attractive since the moment they met, but to have her in his bed is something else. He moves slowly, one of their hands intertwined above her head. Their lips gliding over one another. Killian snaps his hips forward causing Emma to moan his name. Gods it’s a beautiful sound, one he could go on hearing forever. They always fought and bickered, but he knew that just clouded other emotions that lay down deep for both of them. Emotions they weren’t ready to admit yet. Emotions that had finally come to the surface after all these years.

His thumb goes to her clit and makes lazy, slow circles around it causing Emma to writhe underneath him. He moves a little faster still conscious of her injuries, his thumb increasing in speed as well. Finally her back arches off the bed and her walls clenching around spurring his own climax as he spills into the condom. Carefully he flops down onto his bed beside her. He rolls off the bed, discarding the condom before coming back to her.

Emma lays her head on Killian’s chest both of them a little out of breath. She should leave, she normally leaves after sex and collapses in her own bed. This time though Emma doesn’t want to leave and that’s a little terrifying. But she’s tired and doesn’t quite think her legs will allow her to move. She’ll close her eyes rest for a couple minutes then leave. Yeah that’s definitely a good plan.

As it turns out it was a horrible plan because Emma fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the early morning hours with Killian’s arms wrapped around her and pain blossoming where her stitches are. He hums at her movements, just barely waking up himself.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles pressing a kiss into her shoulder.

“Morning,” she says clearing her throat, frowning. He rolls away from her, disentangling their limbs. She carefully sits up, her limbs stiff and certain places especially sore.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks. Emma clenches her jaw before answering.

“The stitches aren’t feeling that great,” she says, her voice tense.

“Did they give you anything for the pain?” he asks, concerned.

“Um yeah. They’re in my jacket pocket,” she mutters, moving to get out of the bed. He places a hand on her shoulder and she stops.

“I’ll get it,” he tells her before leaving the room. Killian comes back with a prescription pill bottle in hand and a glass of water.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she scoffs, taking the pill bottle from him.

“Swan, I’m trying to be gentleman here,” he teases her. She swallows the pills and takes the water from his hand, using it to wash down the pills.

“A gentleman? You?” she teases him right back.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he says with a cocky grin as he walks away from her. There’s a beat of silence between them.

“What do we do now?” she asks, turning to face him.

“Well I imagine you need to get to work and so do I,” he shrugs, searching through his dresser drawers.

“Killian, that is not what I meant at all,” she says with a raised eyebrow. He just chuckles.

“I know what you meant, Swan. What do you want?” he asks, turning to face her with something akin to disappointment in his eyes.

“I’m not sure yet, but I don’t want our nosey friends meddling in our business until we know whatever this is,” she says meeting his fierce blue eyes. He walks up to her, standing in front of her with no shirt on, which is extremely distracting.

“As you wish, Swan. I do want you to know one thing,” He takes her hand in his and pulls Emma gently to her feet, “When I win your heart and I will, it won’t be trick or that we simply fell into bed together. It will be because you want me.” Emma can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears. His gaze so intense and serious. She’s never felt like this before. Hell she’s never seen him like this before.

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t sleep with me again until we slap a label on this?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh definitely not. I’m just letting you know that I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her before pulling her into his arms. Killian puts a lot of passion into the kiss. He knows Emma is the kind of person who believes in actions more than words. Now that he knows what it is like to be with Emma Swan he is never letting her go.

“Emma,” Killian’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, and his eyes were just shy of meeting her gaze. “I know that this is rather...difficult.” He looked frustrated with himself for not being able to put a better voice to his thoughts. And heartbroken. He looked so very heartbroken. She could tell he was trying to compartmentalize this. Trying to put on a brave face. But he couldn’t hide the shine in his eyes, the bob of his throat as he swallowed. She ignored it all, pushed it down with the rest. It didn’t matter. If it did, he wouldn’t be saying these terrible things, wouldn’t be putting forth this ridiculous theory.

 “Difficult?” Emma said in disbelief. “After all this, after everything we’ve been through already, you are really going to tell me this is difficult. Graham is dead. He’s not my..my...my true love,” she spat the phrase, hating it more now than she ever had. “He’s not anything anymore, because of-“ Emma shook her head. “Graham is not an option.”

 “Not in the present,” Killian acknowledged. “But here in the past, he might be.” He swallowed again, glancing away. “Baba Yaga, when I drank her tea, there were...trials.”

 “Trials? What kind of trials?” Emma still hadn’t moved, just watched his profile, the flutter in his jaw as he steeled himself.  

 “Oh you know,” he waved it off. “Riddles and nonsense. The tricks of a mad old witch. We had an arrangement. Play her game and in return for my success she’d answer my questions and give me what we needed to help you. The unicorn, and the feather, namely. That was the agreement, and that was her forfeit when I was victorious.”

 “What kind of questions?” Emma almost didn’t want to know. Wasn’t sure how this could possibly connect. Everything was a muddle of nonsense. It was so beyond insane that she thought for a moment that Maleficent’s potion had worn off, that exhaustion had finally addled her brain to the point of hallucination.

 “I asked her how we would return,” he said slowly. Emma huffed in frustration, her teeth grinding.

 “I heard that, I was there. Spit it out Hook, what else did you ask her? What possible question could you have asked that would make you bring...that..up?

 “I asked-“ he winced at her harsh use of his name. “-where we could find your true love. The one who could break your curse.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

 “What...what did she say?” Emma whispered. She was suddenly afraid. She didn’t want to know.  

 “That it was a man. Within half a day’s ride.”  Something in Emma’s stomach eased, her heart sinking a bit.

 “That could be, literally, anyone,” Emma snapped, some of the fear trickling away to anger. “That’s your evidence? Some crazy lady in the woods with a weird fucking house and a skeleton boyfriend telling you a random man within a 20 mile radius is my true love?”

 “There’s more,” Killian said. His voice was gravel raw, thick with emotion, and it made her eyes tear to hear it. She knew how he felt, had thrown it in his face more than once now. She knew that this couldn’t be easy for him. Hell, it was probably one of the harder things he had done. But the threat of tears was not all born of sorrow, but the anger building inside her as well. Anger that he was so accepting, that he was so gullible, that he could just pair her off with some stranger he didn’t know without batting an eye. It hurt. There was too much going on for her to pull apart all the threads, to examine any one emotion too closely.

 “Before we left she gave me one more gift, an answer to a question I hadn’t asked.” Killian closed his eyes briefly, collecting himself, and continued. “She said that the man was already known to you.”

 “I guess that’s a bit more specific,” Emma scoffed, still not entirely believing him. She came back to the log, reluctantly sitting down. “Why Gr-“ she caught herself, choking on the name. “Him?”

 “I told you,” he still wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve seen that look before. I know it intimately. Your lost Sheriff fits. You felt-” again he paused. “-something for him before he was lost to you.”

 Emma could only shake her head. She had never examined her feelings for Graham too closely. It was such a new thing, the spark of a silly crush, mild flirtations, more than a little annoyance, the anger over his betrayal with Regina, and then that faint flicker of something, so brief and bright, dashed as soon as he had collapsed in her arms. Over before it began.

 “We weren’t-” she started. “It wasn’t like that. We worked together.”

 Killian was silent next to her, still not looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

 “I mean, we kissed. Right before he...died. I kissed him.” Emma shook her head. “It was... new. He was so-” Emma could barely get the words out as she remembered that day. Graham begging her to understand. Wanting so badly to believe him despite how crazy he sounded. How confused and frantic he had been. His hands soft on her face. A single tear as he looked at her with such awe and wonder. She shuddered, swallowing back tears. She could see Killian wince again in her periphery, but he kept his silence, letting her speak, letting her relive it in her memory.

 “I remember. I remember. Thank you.”

 A cold realization settled in her stomach.

 “I kissed him and he remembered,” Emma breathed out. “Before the curse broke. He remembered his old life. Here. Before the curse.”  

 Killian sucked in a hiss of breath as if he’d been struck, a blink and you missed it fluttering of his eye lashes against his cheek. He looked to the sky, took a deep breath, and spoke.

 “I think you have your answer, Swan,” he said dully.

 “I don’t-” Emma shook her head.

 “I know this is painful,” Killian broke in. “I know you’re frightened.” His arm turned, and through the white of his shirt in the glow of the firelight she could make out the faint outline of his tattoo. “Losing someone you...cared for. Believe me, I know.”

 “Figures,” Emma whispered. “My true love is a dead guy.” She tried to put some levity in her voice, but failed. It was too heavy, too raw, too close to home for both of them.  There just didn’t seem to be any right words.

 “But he’s not dead here,” Killian replied. “Perhaps fate has given you a-“ again, he couldn’t seem to force himself to finish for a long moment. It made her heart ache. “-a second chance.”

 “Some fairytale,” she muttered to herself, for both of them.

 “But that’s just it, love.” Killian turned to face her fully now. His eyes were so blue. So soft and sad.  “ You said, by the lake, that you didn’t see yourself in these stories. In your boy’s book. It was just Princesses and fairy tales that you were never apart of.” He tapped the book for emphasis, and then let it fall to rest on his lap.

 He reached over, taking her hand in his own. It was warm and solid, a frisson of electric heat where he stroked his thumb over the back.  

 “What if this is your story, Emma? What if this is your fairytale? You thought of this time, this place for a reason. What if this is it?” He was whispering now, earnest and sad, his eyes shining in the firelight as his voice cracked ever so slightly. It made her breath catch in her throat hearing that crack, and she struggled to breathe. He gave her hand a slight squeeze and let it rest on the leather bound book.  “This could be your happily ever after.”

 She swallowed and looked away, pulling her hand back, and let out a derisive laugh.

 “Then the ending sucks.”

_____

Emma had been silent for most of the day, only asking him now and again for the tiny flask of potion Maleficent had given her. Once just before they had departed, and again as the cart drew closer to their destination. She seemed like she’d rather he keep the potion for her, so he did, tucking it safely in his satchel as Four took them down the ruts and dips of the packed dirt road.

 She had sent him to rest the night before, refusing to leave until he had gotten some sleep. She had a potion to keep her wits about her, he had nothing. He needed actual sleep to function she’d reminded him. They had faced a dragon and leapt from a window. He needed some sleep. She had left him alone by the fire, with the book and his troubled thoughts, and gone down to the edge of the lake to be alone for a bit. Away from him. Away from all talks of fairy tales and true love. Perhaps to give herself time to mourn where she hadn’t before. Sleep wasn’t possible for either of them, and as the first light of the dawn broke over the lake they packed up their little camp and set out to find some answers.

 Now they were deep into enemy territory. Just miles away from the Queen’s castle, which towered above the trees in the distance, shining and ominous, and in his opinion, rather hideous. The wanted posters had increased in frequency the closer they had gotten, nearly one for every tree they passed. Emma had put her hood up, her cloak still slightly damp and smelling faintly of lake water, hiding her face as best she could. He had no cloak, but had raised the collar on his coat in a half hearted attempt at disguise. Her face was the more recognizable one, the reward on her head much higher.

 Thankfully the Queen’s road had been empty for much of their journey, deemed too dangerous for most would be travelers. Not due to the usual ruffians or outlaws, he suspected, but the threat of the Evil Queen herself. The air was thicker here, with anxiety and fear, a palpable thing, mixed with the heavy smoky scent of dark magic that blanketed the land. Even Four noticed the change, the horse jerking it’s head anxiously and slowing it’s pace more and more the closer they got. Even the birds were silent, much like Maleficent’s fortress, all the animals had fled for safer ground, sensing danger.

 “We’ll stop in the next village,” Killian said, pulling the reins to guide their cart towards the smoke of chimney fires in the near distance, following the well trafficked ruts in the road. “It’s risky, but we can see if anyone has any idea where we might find him. The closer villages tend to be more sympathetic to the Queen’s enemies, we might get by. Or they could all be dead.” He gestured to the smoke which suddenly seemed more ominous than simple cooking fires. “No telling in these parts.”

 “And then what?” Emma asked bitterly. “I just go up, introduce myself, and plant one on him?”

 “Not exactly the most tactful plan,” Killian said. The idea of her planting anything on anyone made his stomach twist, equal parts pain and jealousy. He ignored it. “And I doubt it will work.”

 “What? Why?” Emma looked at him. “You said that Baba Yaga-“

 Emma fell silent as Killian wrapped the reins around his wooden hand, tucking them under his arm. He reached behind them, wiggling the story book out of its place in the satchel once again. He set it carefully on her lap, keeping one eye on the road as he flicked through the pages.

 When he came to the one he wanted he stopped turning and tapped the page with a finger.

 “Here we are,” he said.

 “This is about my parents,” Emma looked up at him confused.

 “Aye,” he nodded. He took the reins in his hand again, and clucked softly at Four to correct their course. “In that particular tale your mother accepts a potion from the Dark One-“ the name was said with faint distaste, his lip curling,  “-to take away the pain of a broken heart after she loses your father.”

 There was a lump in his throat, it was too close to home. He thought briefly of the memory potion still tucked away in his bag. The one that would be consumed on the day Emma was happiest. He had a fair idea now of what day that would be. He could see the appeal of such a decision. He had not quite hit it off with the eponymous Snow White, but in this he understood her perfectly.

 “They find each other again of course, they tend to do that,” Killian continued on, he smiled at her wryly, waggling an eyebrow to break some of the tension.  “She’d already taken the potion however and it had the unfortunate side effect that she had no memory of him at all. So when he kisses her,” Killian waved the reins in a gesture Emma couldn’t interpret “-nothing happens.”

 “Okay,” Emma prompted, idly turning the page. “Not seeing the point.”

 “If he doesn’t know you he can’t-” Killian almost said ‘love you’, but that was a step too far. “-break the curse.”

 “How do you know this?” Emma asked, looking at the pages.

 “I read it last night before I fell asleep,” Killian said. It was only half a lie.

 He had meant to rest as she’d ordered, but instead he had spent his evening squinting at the text of the story book in the dimming firelight. It was a last ditch effort, looking for something, anything, that might change things. That story had lit a flame of hope in him, however brief. That was why it had stuck with him.

 He’d thought of Emma in New York as he’d read, her eyes looking at him with no hint of recognition, her lips dry and tasting slightly of mint as he’d tried to kiss her memories back. If it hadn’t worked for Snow White and Prince Charming, the golden pinnacle of Truest Love, then perhaps there was still hope for him. Graham’s memories returning after a kiss was perhaps just a fluke, a happy coincidence. Emma was the Savior, the product of that Truest Love, she could do anything, even restore the memories of a cursed man with a simple kiss.

 But then reality had come crashing in again. The well. Zelena’s curse. The loss of Emma’s magic, not restored since. The entire reason they were forced to do this. There were only so many loopholes, so many near misses, so many excuses he could make. Not even Captain Hook could argue with fate.  

 And now he was using his last thin spark of hope to make the case for another man. The lesson of lost love was for this Graham person, the lesson of loss was for Killian Jones. As it should be. Fate, if nothing else, could certainly be cruel, but she stayed the course.

“So I have to get him to what, fall for me?” Emma asked incredulously, breaking into his thoughts, more than a hint of horror in her voice. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

 Killian couldn’t look at her, had found it increasingly hard to do so as of late, instead he focused on the horse, on keeping the cart centered in the road.

 “I don’t believe it will be as difficult as you fear,” Killian said softly. It certainly hadn’t been for him. A dagger at his throat and sunlight in her hair. All it had taken was one adventure and a bandage. A frantic kiss in a humid jungle.

 Emma was silent next to him. Her fingers idly traced the pages of the book, her expression troubled.

 “I don’t want to do this,” Emma said after a long, awkward, beat. Just the sounds of the wheels on the road and the rustle of leaves.

 He could barely hear her it was so softly spoken. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want her to do this either. To say fuck fate, or destiny and fuck true love. It had brought them both nothing but pain. He wanted so badly to tell her none of it mattered to him. He didn’t care. He didn’t need destiny to love her. He didn’t need love to be true to feel it. That there was nothing in the world he didn’t want her to do more than he didn’t want her to fall in love with another. But the potion wouldn’t last forever. Emma was dying hour by hour, and they needed this to work. Emma still had a chance. They had to take it. She was a hero and her true love could be right here, just miles away. What he wanted more than her love was her safety and her happiness, and this would practically ensure it.

 “It doesn’t feel right,” she said after another long moment.

 “Just try love. If not for you, and your happy ending,” he couldn’t help but sneer a bit at that. “-then for Henry and your family. If we break this curse we can work on getting you home, back to them. The rest will work itself out.”

 “For Henry,” Emma repeated.

 Killian could feel her eyes on him, his skin prickling under her gaze, but he still couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her he’d break. He’d allow himself to be selfish again, become the pirate again, taking what he pleased, damn the consequences. And he’d ask her not to do this. He’d tell her they could find another way. She was wavering on the knife edge already: afraid and reluctant, angry that she had no choice in this, no sense of freewill. One word from him could tip the balance in his favor. He had every advantage.

 But they were out of options. Faced with losing her to someone else and losing her forever there was no choice to be made.

Killian remained silent.

 _____

The village of Sneewittchen was little more than a collection of ramshackle cottages and lean tos near a roughly painted sign declaring its name. If not for the sign they might have missed it completely, hidden in the trees and scrub as it was. A blacksmith, a tavern with a small attached inn, and a few pieces of wood cobbled together into approximations of market stalls were all that comprised the village square, hard compact earth and a crumbling well the central focus of the village. The people were quiet and industrious, dirty and ragged, and sparse. They were actually too quiet, Emma noted. There was no idle chatter in the streets, no gossiping on the corners. The villagers moved from place to place like wary ghosts, only the occasional squeal or bawk from random farm life filling in the gaps. The people scurried like frightened ants, shoulders hunched and heads bowed.  It was a far cry from the bustling city of Phrygia. There was no busy market here , no flamboyant performances and people hawking their wares, no obvious distinction between the rich and the poor. There was just the poor.

 “Where are the Black Knights?” Emma whispered. Killian deftly maneuvered the cart to the edge of the road, beyond the straggling brush and into a copse of trees lining it. They were just outside of the village proper, but the square was clear of the Queen’s enforcers. Only a few of the townsfolk moving here and there, or working in their huts. She could hear the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer, and the baying of a barnyard animal.

 “This close to the castle?” He frowned, jumping down from the cart. Emma climbed after him, grateful for the chance to stretch. “They aren’t needed. Any thought of rebellion was driven out of these people long ago.” He motioned to the tower of Regina's castle standing sentry, watching and waiting.

 Emma peered through the trees at the village. She could see it, on their solemn faces, in the lack of children playing and people actually living. These villagers had been driven into the dirt, had lost enough that they were little more than broken things, going through the motions. Most of the fire in them had to have been snuffed out years ago. The castle looming over them, just a few miles away, always under the watchful eye of the tyrannical all seeing Queen. It was enough of a threat to keep them in line. It made sense. She knew from the book that other villages had already burned, that raids were regular, and that so many had already died. Those who remained fell into step quickly to avoid the same fate. It would be a while before Snow White rose up to oppose her, before Emma’s parents brought life and spirit back to the people.

 “You stay here,” Killian said, slinging his satchel over this shoulder.

 “What?” Emma looked at him startled. “Why? We should stick together.”

 Killian shook his head.

 “Just because we haven’t seen the Queen’s men doesn’t mean they aren’t around. I’ll scout ahead, ask around in the tavern if anyone has seen him. I have a feeling that, as dead as this place is outwardly, that’s the place to be.”  He smirked. “Always is.”

 Emma bristled. It felt wrong.

 “I can help,” Emma said. “We can ask around together.”

 “Just keep yourself hidden here. The trees should hide you well enough. Busy yourself with Four if anyone comes near. And keep your hood up. Your face was the more prominent one on that infernal bounty but they might not see the likeness with mine. I’m also a fairer hand with a sword if we should run into trouble. Save your strength Swan. I’ll make inquiries, perhaps secure a room you can hide in until we find him.”

 “I’m not leaving you,” Emma said. The smirk on his face faded, his jaw growing taut.

 “Of the two of us I’m the most expendable,” he snapped. Emma opened her mouth to argue but he was already forging ahead. “If anything happens to me you can still find your Sheriff, and you can still break the curse. You can still get home. If you’re captured by the Queen that can’t happen.”

 Emma bristled.

 “And how will you get back if that happens, huh? That’s a pretty crappy plan, Hook.” This time the emphasis on the name was deliberate, and he knew it, glaring at her.

 He stepped close, so close she could feel the warmth from his chest, count each individual eyelash. She flushed, half from anger half from something she didn’t want to examine too closely under the circumstances. Now was not the time. She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

 “Where I go and what happens to me is of no consequence to anyone. I will see that you get home to your family, back to your boy, as I promised. You will break that curse and we will find a way for you to get home. So for once, Swan, listen to me and do as I ask.”

 Before she could reply, or even move, he had turned, stalking into the village square towards the dilapidated tavern.

 _______

 It seemed that fate was smiling on them today, which Killian felt was a particularly cruel twist of the proverbial knife. Nothing about this journey had been simple so far. Of course, now the pieces would fall into place.

 The innkeep was a jovial fellow, if not a little subdued, with a shining bald pate and a round jolly belly that swelled out from under a dingy apron. He was half into his cups by the time Killian arrived, apparently a proprietor who drank as much, or more, than he sold. Being several sheets to the wind he didn’t stare too closely at Killian’s face, he only had eyes for the gold in his hand, the last remaining of their robbery in Midas’s lands.

 The tavern was busy compared to the square, just as Killian had suspected. He had seen his share of broken towns in his time. Seen what tyranny could do to the good folks who served under it. It was the only respite these people had from the ever present shadow of the Queen: staunch drinks and rowdy company. He blended in perfectly, and all the patrons were too absorbed in their own drinks and their own troubles to pay mind to a weary traveler.

 The Sheriff wasn’t in town the barkeep had informed him, he lived in the castle now, a consort to the Queen.

 “Not by his will, no,” the man had said with a shake of his head. “Like a dog, he is. Beholden to his mistress. Poor sod.” The man murmured as he poured sour smelling ale into a tankard and slid it across the counter. He topped off his own drink as well and took a sympathetic swill for a fallen man. Killian sniffed the concoction, wrinkling his nose at the odor, but took a sip for courtesy's sake. He pushed the tankard away.

 “Does he ever leave the castle?” Killian asked dropping a coin onto the counter. The man made a grunting noise and reached under the counter. He slapped a scrap of parchment down on the wood with a thwap.

 “Tax collectin’ day, only time he shows his face,” the man said. “Tomorrow.”

 “My thanks for the information. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my-“ Killian did his best to sound happy. “-friend, so it seems my timing was impeccable.”

 “Impreciable for sure,” the man nodded, taking another swig to finish off his pour. “So you’ll be needing a room then?” His eyes flickered to Killian’s hand and he licked his lips.

 “Aye,” Killian nodded. “My companion and I will stay the night.” He laid four more coins onto the counter in a neat stack.

 “For the room. And the keeping of our horse.” He placed another two on top of it.

 “For a hot meal.”  And then he set two more on top of those. The man’s eyes widened.

 “And for your discretion.”

 The innkeep looked up at him then, and Killian winked, taking up the forgotten tankard and downing the sour brew in a few industrious gulps. It was disgusting but it did help clear his head a bit.

 “Yessir,” the man nodded. “Thank you, kindly sir.”

 “Is there a rear entrance?” Killian asked, leaning closer, lowering his voice. “My companion is rather shy. Hates crowds, you know how it can be.” He slid another two coins across the counter which the man pocketed with a nod.

 “Follow me.”

There were running dangerously low on funds after Killian’s display of generosity, but if all went well they wouldn’t have use for it soon. Killian considered it coin well spent once Four was safely stowed in the stable, a weedy looking boy seeing to her tack and feeding and the keeping of their modest little cart, and Emma secreted into their room in the inn.

 “What did you find out?” Emma asked once she was inside, pulling off her cloak with a wrinkle of her nose, happy to be rid of the thing.

 “Tomorrow,” Killian said. He stowed their bags and supplies in the rickety wardrobe against the wall, shrugging out of his own coat. “Tax collection day apparently.”

 “Like the Sheriff of Nottingham,” Emma said absently.

 “Different bloke,” Killian said with a shake of his head. A knock at the door revealed a dumpy looking woman carrying a tray of hard bread and brown sludge that could barely pass for stew. Their hot meal apparently. He accepted it with a gracious but cursory nod and firmly closed the door, balancing the tray on his arm. “Did you not read his story?” He asked setting it on an even more derelict looking table. Everything about this place was falling apart.

 “I skimmed it,” Emma said defensively. “There are a lot of stories in that book.” Killian pushed a bowl of stew over to her, and a piece of bread, gesturing for her to eat. Deciding against it for himself. Food was the last thing on his mind.

 “Might give us some clues on how to proceed,” Killian said. He walked over and picked up the bag with the book, taking it out again. “Would you mind if I-” Killian trailed off, holding it up.

 Emma shook her head, looking away, focusing instead on the bowl of unappealing brown water and limp vegetables.

 “I just...can’t,” she said finally.

 Killian nodded, understanding and settled himself on the bed. It was lumpy and smelled of wood smoke and mildew. A quick inspection had deemed it free of bugs and filth, and it was far better than the ground, or the back of the cart, he reasoned, so he considered it a small victory. He opened the story book, turning the pages until he found the Huntsman's tale, and began to read. He could feel Emma’s wary gaze flickering over to him every so often, nervous and concerned. He ignored her, focusing on the man in the pages.

 It was an odd form of self imposed torture. A penance almost. Reading about the person who would capture the heart of the woman he loved. The man she was destined to be with. But he had to know. He needed to understand. And then, as he turned the final page, the story complete, he did.

 “He didn’t go through with it,” he said to himself.

 “What?” Emma asked. Killian shook his head.

 “Nothing Swan, just thinking out loud,” he flashed her a false smile and snapped the book closed. “I’ll just go check on the horse shall I? Stay here, bolt the door. I’ll return in a trice.”

 “Killian?” Emma asked concern, moving to rise from her seat.

 “Eat your supper, got to keep your strength up,” Killian said, again the false smile, his feet moving swiftly to the door.

 “Killian,” Emma said again, sharper this time. He ignored her, pulling the door closed behind him.

 He barely registered the short trek to the stable. The details of the story swirling through his head.

 So that was it then. That was the difference.

 Two men, both faced with a trial from the Queen, a task set forth, a bargain struck. The Huntsman, ordered to kill an innocent girl to protect those he loved. A noble cause to be sure. And in the end, despite that, turning away from it. Saving Snow White instead, and sacrificing himself in her place.

 And a Pirate, told to kill his father, his only living family, for the means to seek his vengeance. Not exactly a noble quest. Blood hot on his hands, his father’s breath on his neck as he collapsed into the dirt. An innocent orphaned by a swift, impulsive deed, born out of grief, and rage, and single minded purpose.

 Only one of them had succeeded. And only one of them had paid the price with his life. That was it. The moment Killian had proved himself unworthy in the eyes of fate. That was the difference. Graham the Huntsman had died a hero. And Killian Jones had lived far longer than he’d had any right to, driven by dark impulse, hurting and killing for his own selfish purpose.

 Killian’s hand trembled as he took out his flask, struggling to get his teeth around the stopper they chattered so fiercely. The barn was still and silent, only Four’s breath and the occasional scrape and slide of it’s hooves along the dirt floor. Killian took a long draw, and then another, anything to ease the sharp spike of panic in his chest. So many mistakes over the centuries, so many wrong turns. It should have been so obvious that one day he would pay the price. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the liquor fill him, and reminded himself of what he now knew for certain. That what the Dark One had said to the Queen was the truth.

 “Villains don’t get happy endings”.

 ______

 “Is that him?” Killian murmured out of the corner of his mouth. Emma cast her head down, sneaking a peek back towards the bar and gasped.

 Graham.

 He looked exactly as she remembered him. The light curl of his hair. The dusting of stubble along his jaw. The way he stood, sure of himself but apart from the world. It was like being hit by a wave, a swift rush of emotion and awe jolting her physically just seeing him again, pulled into the undertow. For a moment she forgot herself, staring openly across the tavern at this walking ghost, at a relic from the past. Killian nudged her with his arm, and she turned back, ducking into the safety of her hood, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her ears. They were well hidden in the shadows of the corner, but Graham was not alone, flanked on either side by two bored looking Black Knights acting as escort.

 “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?” Killian muttered. He downed the foul ale in one long gulp. It was his third.He had been surly, his face dark and shadowed, since he had returned to their room the previous evening. He had lain next to her in their shared bed without argument this time, turning his back to her without a word, though if he actually slept she couldn’t tell. He’d had no nightmares this time, his breathing steady next to her the entire night. She couldn’t blame him, she understood completely, her own nerves raw and frayed, anxiety pooling in her stomach. You never realized how long the night was when you had to wait for it to pass.

 “Yes,” Emma whispered, sneaking another glance. “That’s him.”  He was still at the bar, his face solemn and expressionless, but polite, collecting a handful of coins from the innkeeper with a nod.

 “Alright then.” Killian put the empty tankard down with a bit more force than necessary. “I’ll distract the guards, see if you can get his attention.” He rose.

 “Don’t,” Emma said, panicking. She reached out, grabbing his hand. “Wha-What do I do?”

 The smirk he gave her was more of a forced sneer than anything, a flash of teeth, as he pulled his hand away. A fresh stab of hurt had her wincing as he backed away from her like she had burned him.

 “I’m sure you’ll think of something Swan,” he said with that horrible false sort of cheer that only made it worse. “It’s True Love!” It was like he had slapped her. Another physical blow of pain that rocked her where she sat.

 Killian turned on his heel and crossed the bar. Emma watched him anxiously, torn, and unsure of what to do. She didn’t want this. It hurt too much. She didn’t want to see Graham. But she desperately wanted to see him again at the same time. She didn’t want to cause Killian pain but this plan left her little choice in the matter. This wasn’t right. To be fucked with by some higher unknown destiny this way.

 Graham had turned away, walking towards the door. He was leaving. She was about to miss her chance.

 “Your story,” Emma whispered to herself. “It’s your story.”  She was a bounty hunter. She had been through similar scenarios before. If she couldn’t sort out her own feelings she could at least do that. Pretend he was just like any other skip. This was just another job. Someone she needed to capture.

 She leapt to her feet, just as Killian threw himself bodily into another man, at another table, sending half full cups of alcohol and bowls of the same greasy stew from the day before to the floor. Killian gave a slurred apology, playing the drunk with practiced ease, and clumsily went to pick up the discarded dishes, only to drop them again. The man he’d fallen into bellowed in outrage, cursing him and the Black Knights turned at the commotion, amused at the drunken lout. One stepped forward with a good natured chuckle to break it up.

 Emma slipped past, her eyes trained on the floor, head turned to the side. She focused on the pair of soft brown boots that were leaving the tavern, apparently not interested in drunken bar fights. She increased her speed, the sunlight bright as she followed him out into square.

 Graham was just ahead of her, apparently having no issue leaving his men behind as he moved to tuck away the small purse of gold he’d taken from the bar keep. Emma picked up her pace. And rammed right into his back.

 The purse fell to the ground, tiny discs of gold rolling out of it into the dirt.

 “Oh gosh,” Emma exclaimed, her voice high and breathless. “I didn’t see you there I am so sorry.” She followed him down to her knees. “Let me help you sir.”

 “No, no need. I got it.”

 Emma’s breath caught at the sound of that voice. So familiar. The accent thick, not friendly but not angry either. Resigned. She looked up, her mouth dry as she finally took him in fully. His eyes were not the same, she thought. Less open. Duller somehow. He glanced at her briefly as he gathered the coins. “Be a bit more careful, eh?” He said.

 Her heart sank a bit. There was no flash of recognition. No grand romantic spark. No bolt of lightning. Just an act of clumsiness and a polite dismissal. Emma checked that off mentally. Made note of it. She wasn’t one prone to romanticized notions, so she wasn’t quite sure why, but it seemed important.

 “I-I actually wanted to talk to you,” Emma stuttered. He did look at her with interest now, and more than a hint of suspicion.

 “Me? What about?” The last of the gold collected he rose to his feet, reaching down to help her up with brusque efficiency. Emma looked at his hand for a long moment and then placed her own inside it.

 Nothing. She didn’t know what she’d expected. His hand was warm, the skin roughened softness from labor, but nothing more than that, and gone as soon as she was back on her feet. She made another mental check.

 “I-um-I,” Emma cursed herself. She was better than this. “I just, saw you in the bar, and I wanted to introduce myself.” She said finally, lowering her voice in a way she hoped was interested without coming across too strong. She should know this, she thought. She should know him. What he would like, what he wouldn’t. Her mind came up blank.

 Graham just stared at her expectantly, more than a bit impatient.

 “I’m Mary,” Emma said finally. “Mary Margaret.”

 “Nice to meet you Mary Margaret. If you’ll excuse me though, I’ve a lot of stops to make,” he gave his pocket a pat where the coins jingled. “It’s collection day.”

 “I know, I know, I just wanted to talk to you,” Emma rushed. She glanced behind her at the tavern entrance, unsure of how much time Killian could buy her.

 “About?” Graham asked. His brow furrowed, scanning her face. “I know you-” he said, trying to work out if he actually did, more of a question than an absolute.

 Emma’s heart stopped. He knew her. Did that mean-?

 “You’re the girl on the poster. The one the Queen is looking for,” Graham’s voice was rising in alarm, his eyes darting back towards the tavern. He reached out, grabbing her arm.

 “No,” Emma jerked back. “That’s not-” she pulled harder but Graham was strong. There was a reason he was chosen to be Sheriff.  “That’s not what I need to talk to you about. It’s a misunderstanding. A great big misunderstanding, I just need to-” Graham had a good grip now.

 “I don’t want to take you in,” He was saying apologetically. “I don’t have a choice. I have to do as she orders.”

 “No you don’t,” Emma said, desperate now. This wasn’t going well at all. As far as meet cutes went this was turning into a disaster. “I just need to talk to you.”

 “You can talk all you like on the way to the palace,” Graham said. He was pulling her arms behind her back now, fully in arrest mode. Emma couldn’t get them free, boots sliding across the dirt as he dragged her bodily back towards the tavern and the waiting Black Knights. Back to Regina and her dungeon, a burning pyre and the end of this entire horrible journey.

 Emma sucked in a deep breath and blurted out the only thing she could think of, the only way she knew of to get his attention. The only way she knew this might work out. Perhaps she could save herself and an innocent man at the same time.

“How do you do that?” Emma asked, descending the remaining steps and taking a seat at their kitchen table. “You always know when I’m behind you.”

“Maybe it’s just my spidey senses tingling?” Killian suggested, turning to hand her a cup of cocoa. Emma giggled at her husband’s reference. He just absorbed the reading material of this world and, thanks to Henry, that also included comic books. Killian had become a master of modern references, not just for comic books, but books and movies even Emma had never read or seen.

“No, seriously? How do you know when I’m standing watching you cook,” Emma demanded as he placed a plate in front of her and turned back for his own.

He took a seat across from her and sipped his coffee briefly before setting it back on the table. He smiled. “The floorboard of the third step from the bottom creaks ever so slightly. I may be old, but my hearing is far superior to many a tenth of my age, just tuned from years at sea, listening to the Jolly.”

“Is that how you always caught Henry when he would sneak out?” Emma asked, already knowing the answer.

Killian finished chewing the bit of omlet he had just put in his mouth before responding, “Aye. How’d you always know if you couldn’t hear the stairs?”

Emma looked at her husband and wondered how they never had this conversation when Henry or any of their foster kids were growing up. “A mother just knows,” Emma deadpanned.

“Oh, really?” Killian challenged, eyes sparkling with mischief. Emma made a small hmm sound and nodded, straight-faced for a second before Killian’s smile broke her resolve.

Emma held out her hand and a small white device appear in her hand. She held it up so Killian could see the lights on it, one for each door or window on the house. “I used a magical charm that made this device light up with the corresponding offender’s window or the main doors of the house.” She closed her palm and the device disappeared back to its place in her nightstand.

Killian’s robust laughter at her explanation warmed her heart. Laughter was exactly what their house needed more of. Her hand rested on her stomach, praying the child in her womb would be alright. Emma had had enough grief and hardship for many lifetimes.

Noticing her frown, Killian spoke up, “Why don’t we move to the couch and grab a blanket or two and spend the day watching some movies since your dad is covering the sheriff’s office again today?”

“Sounds like a plan, you get to make the popcorn,” Emma declared, getting up to put her dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“Sure, love,” Killian agreed, not inclined to deny her anything she may desire. Emma was glad he didn’t comment about her wanting popcorn at the early hour or so soon after her breakfast.

She settled on the couch, grabbing the remote and navigating to Netflix, picking a new Netflix original series she had been meaning to watch when she had time. It’d be nice to take a day to binge watch a new show with her husband. Though she imagined once she got to the end of her pregnancy between her father, husband and everyone else in this town, she’d have plenty of time on her hands then. She settled in and relaxed for the first time in days.

To be continued…

tagging some folks who asked to be tagged, liked this story or those whom I believe will (if you want to be tagged/untagged just ask):