#csficformal

In fact, it was so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t put two and two together immediately.

Sitting up straighter, Killian regarded Liam with a wide smile of his own. “Alright, let’s see it then,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?” Liam said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The list of new appointments to the Cadre,” Killian replied easily. “That is what you came here to tell me about, isn’t it?”

Astonishment, irritation, and frustrated resignation flickered across Liam’s face in quick succession before he slumped back in his chair. “Y’know, you are bloody infuriating sometimes. How did you do that?!”

“Once I remembered what day it was, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out what had you so fired up,” Killian said with a smirk. “There are only a few things in life that can get you that excited.”

“Oi! Don’t act like you aren’t just as eager,” Liam retorted, digging in the pocket of his uniform coat and pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Killian. “You know as well as I do little brother that getting appointed to the Cadre can be career-making.”

Killian let the nickname slide this time, as he was too busy opening up the paper that could very well change his life. “Did you look yet?” he asked Liam, his eyes flicking upwards to meet his brother’s.

Liam nodded, his smile a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Kil. I just couldn’t wait. But why d’you think I was so damn eager to talk to you?”

Any response Killian was about to make died on his tongue as his eyes fell on the list of nine names marching in a tidy column down the left hand side of the paper. He’d only made it about halfway down when he spotted the names he’d been fervently hoping to see.

“Bloody hell.”

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

COMMANDING RESPECT: NINE ELITE OFFICERS SELECTED FOR APPOINTMENT TO CADRE 2018

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, APRIL 30, 2018 – Reports from the palace today have confirmed what was long-suspected to be true: Queen Mary-Margaret and King David, in consultation with the Prime Minister and the most trusted members of their Privy Council, have at long last completed the selection process for Initiates to the newest Cadre.

The Cadre, an elite squadron of officers comprised of members from all branches of Misthaven’s military, is personally selected every three years by the King and Queen. The newly chosen members of the Cadre will arrive in the capital city of Spero next week, at which time they will enter into a rigorous training boot camp designed to ready them to serve both as personal guards to the entire royal family and emissaries of the country’s armed forces when they accompany the royal family abroad.

Candidates selected for this rarified group have proven themselves in a variety of ways. They must have graduated in the top third of their cadet class, possess an exemplary service record in their branch of the military, show an aptitude and inclination for officer training, be in peak physical condition, and conduct themselves with honor in their everyday service. Having exhibited extraordinary valor in combat scenarios is also taken into account, but is by no means mandatory.

In addition to boot camp, when each new Cadre is selected, one member of each service branch from the previous Cadre remains in place for the first year of the new Cadre’s term. They are intended to act as mentor and training officer for their service branch within the Cadre and may be called upon to perform Cadre functions from time to time – though their main purpose is to train the newly selected members of the squadron. During the first year of each Cadre’s tenure, the presence of these training officers cause the group to swell to twelve members rather than its typical nine.

The existence of the Cadre dates back almost to the founding of Misthaven. Though its exact origins have been lost to time and the great fire of 1860, which destroyed much of the contents of the Hall of Records for Misthaven’s military, anecdotal evidence traces its beginning back to the kingdom’s fledgling days. Formed to protect the leaders of the small, newly-formed kingdom against the outside forces of its larger and mightier neighbors, over time, the Cadre has also come to serve other purposes – these include fostering community, partnership, and mutual understanding between members of different service branches. Members often maintain close professional ties long after their Cadre years are over. These bonds help to strengthen Misthaven’s military in tangible and intangible ways.

Of course, the Cadre still adheres to its original purpose – providing the highest caliber of protective services to Misthaven’s royal family. This year, the twelve servicemen and women appointed to the Cadre are:

Royal Misthaven Army

Captain R. Locksley

Lieutenant B. French

Warrant Officer W. Scarlet

Lieutenant G. Humbert – training officer

 Royal Air Force of Misthaven

Wing Commander A. King

Flight Lieutenant E. Merlin

Flight Lieutenant M. Fa

Flight Lieutenant L. Dulac – training officer

 Misthaven Royal Navy

Commander L. Jones

Lieutenant K. Jones

Sub-lieutenant W. Smee

Lieutenant-Commander K. Nottingham – training officer

-/-

Emma sighed with relief as the back door of Two Wolves Tavern swung shut behind her, effectively muffling the noise from the street outside. Thankfully, this part of Spero was a good distance from the bars and clubs that lined the streets of the capital city’s small, yet bustling, nightclub district. Two Wolves would get busier as the night went on, but it would be nothing like the sort of chaos that could be found downtown.

The tavern was old – having been in the same family’s ownership for multiple generations – and the inside was a blend of cozy restaurant, warm and inviting bar, and a small space where those who were so inclined could dance. The wood paneling was dark and burnished to a shine, the lights low and soothing, and the furnishings were on the rustic, lived-in side. All of those elements combined to give the tavern itself an uncanny ability to project a sense of comfort and safety every time a person stepped through its doors.

It didn’t hurt that its owners – Elizabeth Lucas and her granddaughter Ruby – were friendly and yet fiercely protective of their clientele. Not to mention that they had been friends of Misthaven’s royal family since the current queen was a young girl. Privacy and discretion were as guaranteed at Two Wolves as they could ever be in a city as infamously gossip-riddled as Spero.

In short, it was perfect.

It was the ideal place for a princess to hide away from the world for a few hours, which was exactly what Emma was determined to do.

She straightened, pushing up from where she’d slumped against the now-closed door, and took a deep breath. Slipping inside the nearby ladies’ room, she took a moment to look at herself – truly look – in the mirror above the tiny sink. Beyond the crack running up one edge of the glass she saw a woman who, while appearing slightly tired, had an invigorated sparkle in her eyes. She loved her family and – most of the time – she loved the life she got to lead. But there were some occasions when the expectations and pressures of being a princess just got to be too much and she needed to get away.

Tonight is definitely one of those times, she thought to herself with a grimace. Especially if the Privy Council is going to be so ridiculously archaic–

Emma cut off her own line of thought with a shake of her head. The situation with the council was exactly what she’d been coming here to avoid. She was hardly about to ruin her own evening by thinking about it now. If she got going, she knew she’d only end up stewing about it for hours and that was not what she wanted out of tonight.

She glanced at herself in the mirror again, pushing a strand of auburn hair from her bobbed wig back behind her ear and straightening the square black frames on her glasses (a relic from her life before contacts). Happy with what she saw, she grinned widely at herself. She was under no illusions as to what would happen when her Cadre guards discovered her missing from the palace. No doubt they’d assume she was at Two Wolves and follow her here. It’s not like it was the first time she’d come here after all. Her parents were (relatively) at peace with her choice of “escape” location, and she always was careful enough to wear a different disguise each visit – though usually, she did bring her guards with her.

But, she’d reasoned with herself as she’d slipped out of the palace unseen, even if she hadn’t brought Humbert and Dunbroch with her, it’s not like Two Wolves wasn’t known as an off-duty Cadre hang out. Surely she’d be safe enough there – and she really needed out of the palace for just a night.

After fussing with the set of her wig a bit more, Emma was finally satisfied that she looked innocuous enough and left the ladies’ room. Entering the tavern’s main room, she immediately spotted Ruby behind the bar and moved to take a seat at the far end – the dark, weathered wooden bar-top curved around there to meet the wall, creating a cozy little nook where Emma hoped she wouldn’t be overly bothered.

Ruby finished with her current customer and headed in Emma’s direction. “Heya, so what can I get–“ the question died on Ruby’s lips as she caught sight of Emma. Narrowing her eyes and darting a furtive glance around the room, she hissed “Emma?!” almost under her breath. “That is you, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded, grinning back at the woman she’d come to consider a true friend over the last several years. “Yep,” she replied brightly. “Though I really do hope no one else will be able to figure it out so easily.”

Ruby shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “You look completely different with that hair. It was just…the glasses, I think. You’ve used them before with a different wig and they looked a bit familiar. But I’m probably the only one who would pick up on that.”

“Hopefully you’re right,” Emma sighed. “I really can’t deal with my cover being blown tonight.”

“Uh oh…that doesn’t sound good. Everything okay?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Ruby asked, a concerned frown stealing across her face.

“Not really.”

Her friend laughed at that. “Understood,” she replied. “Let me get you something to ease your troubles then. What’ll it be?”

She ordered a glass of rum – something she’d picked up a fondness for a few years ago, much to her mother’s chagrin – and settled in, spending the next hour or so chatting with Ruby when the other woman didn’t need to take care of her other customers. She also got into a spirited, yet good-natured political debate with some of the local regulars – thankfully none of whom recognized her – pleased to find that she held her own even when the discussion delved into some of the more intricately nuanced topics.

This had been exactly what she’d needed tonight. A chance to get away and just be Emma, not a princess, not someone who had to weigh and consider each and every action against some grand standard of courtly behavior. Honestly, she loved her family, and she knew she was incredibly privileged to live the life she led – but there were times when it just felt like no one truly knew the real person she was underneath her title.

Emma just wanted to be seen.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she became aware of a presence settling onto the barstool a couple of seats to her left. Ruby came over to drop off Emma’s second rum and take the newcomer’s order. Before she moved back towards the other end of the bar, she caught Emma’s eye and gave a slight nod in the direction of the stranger, a wicked grin curling her mouth.

When Ruby got that look, it usually spelled trouble – and as much as Emma might want to cut loose and spend a night free from the constraints of her royal duties, she still knew that there was a line that she simply could not cross.

At least not anymore, she thought. She might have been more reckless when she’d been younger, but she’d learned long ago – the hard way – that there were certain things, normal-people things, that simply weren’t in the cards for her.

Getting pulled into one of Ruby Lucas’ madcap adventures definitely qualified as one of those things.

She’d just made her mind up to take her drink over to a quiet table in the opposite corner of the tavern and leave the end of the bar in possession of the new arrival, but she made the mistake of looking in his direction as she moved to stand up.

Sitting next to her, with nothing but one empty barstool in between them, was – quite simply – the most unfairly attractive man Emma had ever seen in her life.

It’s like the universe must be laughing at me, she thought to herself grumpily. Dropping someone who looks like that in my path when there’s no way I can do anything about it. Or, at least, no way that I should.

He was dark-haired, with a slightly lighter scruff dusted along his sharp jawline. From where she sat, it wasn’t hard to discern his broad shoulders, leanly muscled arms, or narrowly tapering waist. His eyebrows seemed to dance expressively along his forehead when he turned to face her, and they hovered over what had to be the mostly unfairly blue pair of eyes Emma had ever seen.

“Lass?” the stranger asked softly. His voice bore the lilting accent typical of those from Misthaven’s southern coastal region. “Are you quite alright?”

Shit!

She must have been staring when he’d looked in her direction. Moving to pick up her drink and take a sip to distract herself, her hand fumbled slightly and the tumbler toppled over, sending rum rippling across the ancient bar-top.

“Dammit,” she muttered, before looking back up at him. “Oh, yeah…yes. I’m fine – just…”

“Here,” he offered, sliding over to sit on the barstool directly next to her and handing her his napkin to help mop up the spill. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice filled with more concern than she would’ve thought possible considering they’d literally just met and she didn’t even know his name – and he couldn’t come to know hers.

Not her real one, at least.

She shrugged, looking away from him and concentrating on swiping at the alcohol that had finally stopped spreading and now lay in a thin sheen over the bar top. “Mostly,” she murmured. “I guess I’m just having one of those days, you know?”

He chuckled, and she glanced up to see an understanding grin work its way across his face as he nodded. “Aye, I can sympathize. I feel like I’ve been having one of those days for most of the past month.”

“Oh?” she asked, even as she mentally scolded herself for prolonging the conversation. She knew she should just cut things off – find a quick, polite way to excuse herself, pay up and say good night to Ruby, and make her way back to the palace. If she did that, maybe she’d even make it back before her Cadre guards made it here tonight. But she couldn’t seem to help herself – something about this stranger captivated her.

It wasn’t just his obviously good looks, either – he had a quiet earnestness about him. That, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t immediately tried to hit on her – at least not overtly – made her want to stay in his orbit at least a little bit longer.

“Mm,” he nodded, though Emma had almost forgotten she’d asked him a question. “I moved to the city at the start of the month for…a new position with a heavier workload. I knew it was going to be different, but let’s just say it’s been more of an adjustment than I was expecting.”

She noted the slight pause partway through the stranger’s answer, but when she caught his gaze, he was looking at her with nothing but sincerity. Emma had always had a sixth sense as to when people were being untruthful – her parents and brother always teasingly called it her “superpower,” but it had rarely steered her wrong. Her instincts about people were usually pretty spot on, and this guy, whoever he was, didn’t ring any alarm bells for her.

“That sounds like a lot to take on all at once,” she said sympathetically. “I hope it’s been worth it…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

He caught on quickly and supplied his name at last. “Killian,” he said with another smile. “And yes, so far it has been…” he said, tilting his head in her direction, clearly waiting for her to reciprocate with her name.

“Anna,” she murmured, hoping if she lied softly it somehow wouldn’t feel as bad as she feared it would. It did though. Emma hated being lied to, and she really hated doing it to someone else – but she really didn’t see any other way to stay there and keep talking to Killian. Which, apparently, is something I really want to do, she realized suddenly.

“Anna,” he repeated, the syllables sounding lovely as they rolled off his tongue, yet making her stomach twist all the same with their falseness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled at that, small but genuine. “You too, Killian,” she said, only slightly surprised to discover how much she meant it.

With that, they fell into an easy conversation – or, at least, as easy a conversation as Emma could have with anyone who didn’t know her real identity. But unlike the political discussion she’d been having with the locals earlier in the evening, the longer she spent talking with Killian, the more she wished she could tell him who she was.

Just when she was thinking that she really had to find a way to extricate herself and sneak back home, marveling that she still hadn’t seen any sign of the Cadre, her luck ran out. Killian was in the middle of a rather absurdly charming story of some childhood shenanigans involving him, his older brother, and a stray dog they’d smuggled home and tried to hide from their parents – but just as he was reaching the heart of the story, Emma caught a flash of red hair over his left shoulder.

It could have been someone else – Lieutenant Dunbroch wasn’t the only person in Spero with bright red hair, not by a long shot – but considering the speed with which said hair’s owner was moving, and the taller figure that had slipped inside after her and lingered in the shadows near the front door, the odds were good that she and Lieutenant Humbert had finally caught up to her.

Keeping her attention on Killian, Emma held out her hand where he couldn’t see it and signaled for Lieutenant Dunbroch to stop. She knew the other woman would no doubt be extremely irritated, but she hoped that she would at least give Emma a moment to say goodbye to Killian without giving away her identity.

“-and then he licked Mum’s nose and cuddled right up to her and she just…melted,” Killian said, huffing out a laugh. “In the end, the joke was on Liam and me – that blasted dog loved her more’n either of us.”

Emma chuckled softly. “Adorable, but apparently fickle,” she teased, before signaling to Ruby to put all of her and Killian’s drinks on her ongoing tab and shifting to stand. She paused for a moment, unsure how to extricate herself smoothly – looking over at Lieutenant Dunbroch, she estimated that she had mere moments before her guard broke up the conversation. The other woman would never cause any scene that would attract more attention Emma’s way, but the Lieutenant would undoubtedly take a much blunter approach to ending Emma’s conversation with Killian than she’d prefer.

While she’d been lost in her thoughts, Killian’s gaze flicked over her, landing on her face. He seemed to notice that she was preparing to leave, and reached out to lay his hand over her free one where it still lay on the bar. “You’re leaving, lass?”

She returned his gaze, a feeling of true regret washing through her. It was something she’d not expected when she’d first met him, thinking him then to be just a handsome stranger – someone good to waste an hour in a bar with, but that’s all. But the conversation they’d fallen into over the course of the evening had shown her that there was much more to him than met the eye.

He was kind, smart, funny, and opinionated – and, she realized with a start, he was shockingly good at putting her at ease. Once they’d started talking, she’d barely given a thought to getting back to the palace or worrying about the Cadre catching up to her. She’d even forgotten about the matter that had originally driven her outside the palace walls that evening.

That’s dangerous, she thought. I can’t afford to be unfocused right now.

Not that Killian knew anything about that – not with the tale she’d spun him of being a scholarship student at the University of Spero, in the capital city from her home in the far northern reaches of the country. And not that he’ll get a chance to know, either – it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

“Yes, uh…sorry, yeah. I have to go,” she murmured, sliding her fingers out from underneath his, a wave of longing washing over her as the heat of his hand leeched from hers. She ducked her head down and avoided his eyes, afraid of what she might find there, glancing instead at Lieutenant Dunbroch out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve got, um, an early morning tomorrow,” she said. It wasn’t a total lie – it was just that she would be spending yet another day in a rotation of royal duties, which she found beyond mind-numbing, rather than in academic arguments with some university professor, which is no doubt closer to the assumptions Killian must have been making about her plans for the following day.

“I understand, Anna,” he said with a refreshing sincerity. “In fact, I have a rather early one myself – didn’t realize it had gotten so late. It was just very easy to talk to you,” he said, biting his lip after the words escaped. Emma smiled to herself – his slightly flustered reaction was actually really adorable.

And that kind of thinking is even more dangerous.

Emma saw Lieutenant Dunbroch take a step in her direction and knew she had to do something now if she had any hope at all of salvaging a smooth exit. She stepped to the side, putting a bit more space in between her and where Killian sat. “I had a great time too,” she said honestly. “I just have to go-”

“Can I see you again?” he interjected, standing and taking a step forward into her space. She stiffened in surprise – wanting to say yes but knowing it would be playing with fire. Killian seemed to mistake her shock for disinterest though, as his face fell slightly and he started to backtrack. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought that-”

“Yes,” she breathed. It seemed as though it was her turn to shock him, if the dazed smile spreading across his face were any indication.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed, feeling her own smile get bigger. “When?”

“Uhm,” He blinked for a moment, as if still startled that she’d agreed, which Emma found just as adorable as his earlier flustered state. “I hate to wait this long, but a week from tonight? Work is going to make the rest of this week kind of impossible, I’m afraid.”

Emma internally breathed a sigh of relief. A week would give her time to figure out exactly how she was going to get away with sneaking out of the palace again so soon after this adventure. “That’s okay. A week is perfect. I’ll meet you here? Maybe at seven?”

He nodded. “Sounds perfect, lass.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” she flashed him a bright smile and turned away before she could say or do anything else impulsive, like kiss him goodbye or something. She thought she heard him call after her as she walked away, but by that point she was bypassing the spot where Lieutenant Dunbroch was waiting, the other woman falling into step behind her, and her attention shifted to planning out how to get out of the trouble she’d be in for slipping away from her guards for the evening.

Still, she thought, it was definitely worth it.

-/-

“Lass! Anna! I don’t have your number!” Killian called after the retreating figure of the woman who’d enchanted him since he’d sat down next to her earlier that evening. Unfortunately, she must not have heard him over the music and chatter of other patrons that filled the tavern because she kept on moving, never breaking stride.

The fleeting thought entered his head that maybe she hadn’t actually been serious when she’d agreed to see him again, and that maybe now she was just trying to put as much distance between them as possible. But he didn’t want to believe it – the connection between them that night had felt so easy, so natural, so real. He couldn’t believe that it had been one sided.

He sighed, sinking back down on his barstool and running a hand through his hair. There was nothing for it – he’d just have to show up at Two Wolves next week and hope that she’d be there. He’d hated having to ask her to wait that long, but in Cadre training, he and his fellow Initiates only received one night off each week – there was nothing else he could have done if he’d wanted to see her again. And he definitely did.

Resolving to put the uncertainty over whether he’d really see Anna again out of his mind and focus on his training for the next week, he moved to flag down the bartender so that he could pay and get back to base. She came over but waved him off when he tried to settle his bill. “Already taken care of,” she said with a wicked grin. “By your lady friend there,” she gestured to the seat where Anna had been with a flourish. “Thought you knew.”

Killian shook his head slowly, putting his wallet away as the brunette sauntered back down to the other end of the bar, not waiting for him to respond. He felt a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, it seemed like there was a much better chance that Anna would show up next week.

-/-

Emma fidgeted in her seat, twisting the hem of her sweater absently between her fingers as she tried – with little success – to pay attention to Elsa, her private secretary, as the other woman ran through the calendar of Emma’s upcoming public appearances and social obligations. Though she knew it was expected of her to absorb as much of this information as possible and engage in making decisions about how she would participate in each event, she just couldn’t seem to focus today.

If she were being honest, for the last three days it had been a struggle to concentrate on her royal duties – she found herself staring off into space more often than not, having an unusual amount of trouble banishing a certain pair of blue eyes and a deep, rich laugh from her memory.

It was ridiculous – she should never have gone to Two Wolves in the first place, and she certainly shouldn’t have gotten into such a deeply engaging conversation with someone she’d never met before, and she absolutely should not have agreed to see him again.

But…she had done all of those things.

Moreover, she was actually plotting ways to follow through on her promise to meet Killian again without arousing suspicion from her Cadre guards – or, worse, her family.

Thankfully, the guard detail changed every week, and Lieutenants Dunbroch and Humbert had already handed off to Lieutenant MacIntosh and Flight Lieutenant Dulac. Though the Cadre members of course informed each other routinely of any issues with their royal charges, Emma hoped that the change of guards would at least give her more of a chance to elude them when the time came. Surely, they wouldn’t expect her to sneak out two weeks in a row – whenever she’d had one of her “normal Emma” nights in the past, they had been spaced months and months apart.

She’d never dared to be so brazen before, and she wasn’t quite sure why she was risking it now.

There was just something about Killian she couldn’t shake.

More to the point, she didn’t want to.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts by the noise of a throat clearing, and from the tone of the sound, it wasn’t the first time. She looked up, a sheepish expression on her face, to see Elsa staring at her, one eyebrow arched inquisitively. “I’m sorry, your highness. Would you prefer to resume at another time?” Her words were proper and correct, but her tone was slightly pointed, as though there were something she wanted to say but was holding herself back.

It was a more appropriate tack for a friend to have taken, rather than an employee, but Emma never had been very good about keeping firm boundaries between herself and her staff. She’d always treated them more like friends and colleagues than employees, and encouraged them to do the same. (Out of public view, at least – her parents took a similar stance in private but of course royal propriety had to be observed in front of the masses).

“Oh…no,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to dismiss the last of her wandering thoughts. “I know I drifted a bit there, but I promise I’m with you. Where were we?”

Elsa smiled sympathetically at her. “The ribbon cutting for the new equestrian center in Norton on Friday, followed by the christening of the Royal Navy’s new ship in Fair Isle Bay Saturday morning.” Emma sighed and, while she didn’t exactly roll her eyes, something of her displeasure must have shown in her expression because Elsa chuckled softly. “I know how you feel about these events, your highness. But you know that-”

“It’s all part of my duties,” Emma cut in. “Yes, I do. I just wish that sometimes those duties could include something more meaningful than standing around in a pretty dress and waving at the crowd as a ribbon is snipped or a bottle of champagne is flung against a ship. I want to do something with my life. What good is the power my position grants me if I can’t do anything useful with it?!”

Elsa looked at her like she didn’t quite know what to say. This was a conversation they’d had often enough since Elsa had become her private secretary, but they’d pretty much exhausted the topic long ago. Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone softening. “None of this is your fault…I just. The Privy Council has been especially tiresome recently.”

“Ah,” Elsa’s expression morphed from slightly shocked into something much more understanding. “Minister Gold still harping on the same old things?”

Emma nodded, slumping down in her chair and leaning her head back against the overstuffed upholstery. “With a few new bits,” she replied. “He’s still very much of the opinion that my parents wasted both Misthaven’s time and resources by allowing me to go to college, let alone grad school, and that my efforts would have been far better spent courting the attentions of one of Europe’s eligible princelings. In the last council meeting, he actually said that if I were so bound and determined to make a contribution to Misthaven’s future, I ought to speed up the husband-hunt so that I could get down to the business of producing the next heir. He didn’t actually add the phrase ‘before you’re no longer of child-bearing years’ but the meaning was clearly implied.”

Elsa looked aghast. “He’s a pig,” she declared (triggering a surprised snort of laughter from Emma), before continuing. “Besides, you’re the next heir. Has he somehow forgotten that?”

“Oh no,” Emma replied, the edge in her tone belying the false brightness of her words. “That’s the fun new twist to his ravings. He’s putting a bill before the council promoting the revocation of the reformed succession laws. He’d have it so that he’d reduce my father’s standing due to his so-called ‘common’ birth status, and bump Leo up the chain – until and unless I had any male children.”

“But, but, but,” Elsa sputtered. “There’s just so much wrong with that, I don’t even know where to begin!”

“Trust me, I know,” Emma sighed as Elsa started to pace back and forth. “But I doubt that pointing out his logical flaws would slow Gold down.”

Elsa’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “But your father isn’t of common birth! He was a Prince of Glowerhaven-”

“A title used only ceremonially for the past century, despite its connection to Glowerhaven’s ancient royal house,” Emma pointed out.

“And Leo’s eight! Even if Gold succeeded, your brother wouldn’t be of age for another thirteen years – what’s the country supposed to do in the meantime? Wait?!” Elsa was working herself up into a state the likes of which Emma had rarely seen from the usually cool and composed blonde. “These laws have been on the books for nearly thirty years! He cannot possibly think that he’ll get this out of the council, much less to the floor of the parliament.”

Emma laughed, but it was a short, dry sound. “No, not even he’s that crazy – but he’s plotting something. I just don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is too obvious. You said it – it’s not something that will pass the council’s vote, and the parliament will never even see this bill. But before it’s all over, the news of his ideas will leak out and he’ll be able to create enough of a controversy that public opinion will be whipped up and debating it all for months. He then gets to back off and make his real play while everyone is distracted with the succession issue, even though that’s just white noise.”

Understanding dawned on Elsa’s face. “But you don’t know what it is he really wants,” she replied. It wasn’t a question.

“Not a clue,” Emma said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “But whatever it is, it won’t be good.”

-/-

All things considered, she really shouldn’t have gone back to Two Wolves the next week to meet Killian.

The situation with Minister Gold continued to be tense, and Emma’s parents hadn’t exactly been thrilled when her Cadre guards had reported her previous week’s adventure. But despite spending most of the week twisted with indecision over the matter, she found herself slipping out of the castle yet again the following Monday evening, heading for the stables.

Her auburn wig and glasses were tucked into a small satchel that bounced at her hip. She’d slip them on once she was behind the stable and before she scrambled over the wall separating the palace grounds from the quiet road that ran in one direction towards the forest and the other down into Spero.

She really shouldn’t have gone, but when she got to the tavern and caught sight of Killian’s face – he didn’t see her at first and she spied him scratching nervously behind his right ear before checking his watch and glancing around – she knew she’d made the right decision. The brilliant smile that bloomed across his features when he caught sight of her didn’t hurt either.

By the time the end of the evening rolled around, they’d spent several hours wandering hand in hand through a street carnival in the heart of downtown and sitting and talking over coffee and pastry at an out of the way café Killian had spotted. The conversation had flowed easily between them, as had the teasing and laughter, and every moment made Emma more and more certain she wanted to see him again, damn all the risks.

When he walked her back to the spot where they’d met earlier in the evening and pressed lingering kisses first to the ridge of her knuckles and then to the inside of her left wrist, she was absolutely sure of it.

Pressing up on her tiptoes and gripping his shoulder for balance, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Give me your phone.” He handed it over with a quirk of his eyebrow and she programmed her actual, private number into it and sent herself a text before she could think better of her actions. Brushing a whisper of a kiss along his jawline, she pressed the phone back into his hand and stepped back. “I had a great time, Killian.”

“Me too, lass,” he breathed, looking at her with a kind of intense wonder that made his eyes seem lit from within.

Emma had the sneaking suspicion she was looking at him in much the same way, but she also needed to take a literal and metaphorical breath – this was all rather a lot to process – and she really needed to get back to the palace before she was missed. (She was kind of marveling at the fact that her guard detail hadn’t caught up to her tonight – although she supposed it was because they’d moved around so much at the street fair that they’d been hard to find, especially if the Cadre would have put their focus on Two Wolves. Still, she wasn’t going to take her luck for granted – the last thing she needed was another lecture from this week’s detail about the perils of sneaking out).

“I’d better get going,” she murmured, glancing up to find him still gazing at her with that semi-awestruck expression. “But, uh, text me, yeah?”

He smiled slowly, and leaned closer, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek. “You can bet on it, love,” he whispered as he drew back.

Emma smiled all the way back to the palace.

Neither of them took any notice of the camera snapping photos from the shadowy corner across the street.

-/-

The sun shone brightly and the sky was an endless blue expanse, broken only rarely by the puffiest white clouds. A cool breeze blew inland off of the water, and off in the distance – perhaps on one of the public beaches further down the coast – several kites in an array of vibrant colors bobbed and wove their way through the air.

In short, it was a perfect day – made even more so by the warm weight of Anna’s head where it rested against his shoulder. They were sitting on a blanket on a grassy hill overlooking the bay, sharing the remains of a picnic lunch he’d brought. When he’d texted her earlier in the week to propose their next meeting (Or were these, officially, dates by this point? Killian knew what he wanted them to be, but still wasn’t completely sure of what Anna was thinking), he’d suggested doing something a bit different and had been thrilled when she’d seemed excited about a mini-break to the seaside.

He’d met her at the train station closest to Two Wolves at mid-morning and they’d spent the railway journey once again in companionable conversation – with the notable addition of a bit of hand-holding and, for the latter part of the ride, Killian’s arm slung round her shoulders. They’d played at sight-seeing as the Misthaven countryside had slipped by the windows – though, he noted, they were both fairly well versed with the route. It made sense for him, having spent most of the years of his naval training and service based in Fair Isle Bay, but he made a mental note to ask Anna later if she’d spent much time by the coast, given her northern upbringing.

They’d arrived at the coast just before noon, spending the first hour or so poking into the little shops up and down the boardwalk of one of the small villages not too far from the naval base. He knew he was taking a risk bringing her here – anyone from his old detail who was off-base on liberty could spot him. That wouldn’t please his Cadre training officer one bit, given that Cadre members weren’t meant to broadcast their status as such – it was one of the first things that was drilled into every Initiate during boot camp.

(It was part of the reason why the newspapers only published the Initiates’ rank, first initials, and last name when the new Cadre was announced – and didn’t use any photos. From the point they entered Cadre boot camp, new Initiates were meant to keep as low a profile as possible – bringing a date (if that is what this was) to the Royal Navy’s backyard was just tempting fate. But Killian had to show her the coast – it was so much a part of him, of who he was. He needed to share such an intrinsic part of him with this woman who was – with startling rapidity – coming to mean a great deal to him).

After having some ice cream at a quaint little place on the edge of the town – Anna’d bargained quite convincingly with him that they should get dessert before they had their lunch – Killian beckoned Anna to follow him up one of the public walking trails that snaked over the low hills separating the town from the beaches and the coastline proper.

They’d found a relatively flat spot with a brilliant view of the water that wasn’t too far off the path, but was sheltered enough for a bit of privacy, and had set about enjoying their lunch. Now, bellies full and conversation – for the moment – exhausted, they were simply enjoying the moment. Sitting together, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Every time the wind shifted in a particular direction, Killian smelled the enticing apple and cinnamon scent of Anna’s shampoo over the salt in the sea air. He curled his arm around her shoulders again and tugged her ever-so-slightly closer. She hummed in contentment and nestled ever further into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He wasn’t quite sure how this had happened – wasn’t even sure exactly what to call what they were doing – but Killian had never expected to find anyone like Anna when he’d gone to Spero for Cadre boot camp. She was passionate, brilliant, funny, and could argue politics with him until they both needed to catch their breath. She challenged him, and seemed to delight in their verbal sparring matches as much as he did – but that was far from all. When she spoke of her studies, and her desire to help those who were less fortunate in life, her compassion shone so brightly it nearly took Killian’s breath away.

Not to mention she was beautiful – her physical attributes were…captivating…and he couldn’t pretend they’d gone unnoticed – but her gently dimpled cheeks, alabaster skin, deep green eyes, and lustrous auburn hair meant less to him than the beauty he could see in her heart.

“I wish I could have this all the time,” she murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“Hmm?” Killian hummed, pulling himself out of his wandering thoughts and tilting his head so that he could look down at her.

She peered up at him, blinking slowly as if she’d been nearly on the brink of falling asleep on his shoulder. “This…this kind of day. It’s so peaceful, and calm…and just…real.”

He chuckled at her turn of phrase. “D’you have many days that aren’t real, then?”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “You’d be surprised,” she muttered. He waited for her to explain, and after a moment she shrugged. “It’s just…a lot of the time, I feel like I’m not fulfilling my…true purpose, I guess. Or, well…I’m following the path that was laid out for me, and I don’t really have a lot of input into how to make it a better path. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. D’you know what I mean?”

Her words make him think of his own youth, and the choices – or lack thereof – that had been offered to him and Liam. Sitting up a little more fully, he looked away from her, out over the water, and began talking. “My Mum died when I was barely ten, Da left a year later – couldn’t hack tryin’ t’raise two boys on his own. Liam – my brother – worked and scraped and saved and did everything he could to give us a better chance-”

“Killian, you don’t have to-” Anna tried to cut in.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I want to.” He took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. “He worked, he got into the Royal Naval Academy, and then when I was old enough, I followed him. I’d follow him anywhere – he saved me when our family fell apart – and I really have come to love the Navy. I love the sea, and the structure and purpose of the work is fulfilling…”

“But?” this time Anna prompted him when he trailed off.

“But,” he said, glancing back at her, smiling genuinely at the concern he saw on her face. “Much as I’ve come to adapt to it and find meaning in it, it wasn’t my own dream. It was really Liam’s. But it’s where I’ve found myself, and I’ve tried to make the most of it that I can – I’ve found ways to make that dream mine and I work hard at making it meaningful to me every day. I’ve found parts of it that I can latch on to and really connect with. Then, my finding purpose in it makes it possible to do something meaningful for others.”

“And does that work? Is it enough for you?” she asked him, a genuine curiosity flickering over her features.

He caught her gaze and held it earnestly. “I think so,” he said honestly. “Some days, I feel more connected, more purposeful, than others, if I’m being honest. But even on the days when I feel like I might be slacking off on the whole ‘fulfilling my maximum potential’ thing, I do feel like I’m making a positive difference for my country,” he ducked his head, feeling a flicker of embarrassment. “Sorry, that sounded a bit overly patriotic and rah-rah, I know.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “It makes a lot of sense. Thank you for sharing all that with me,” she said with an earnestness that made him smile softly at her.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just trying to say that even if you don’t have a lot of options in terms of choosing the actual direction your life is headed in right now, you still have the power to shape the path that lies ahead. You still have choices you can make and ways you can focus on the things that are important to you. You just have to be patient – pick your moments and your metaphorical battles and before you know it, you’ll have wrestled this challenge into submission and be on to conquer the next one.”

She chuckled wryly. “You really think so?”

“Aye,” He replied. “I know I’ve not known you long, Anna, but as it stands I think you’re brilliant, and believe you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. To hell with anyone who says you can’t.”

Her eyes flicked up to his and he was caught in the fiery determination he saw in her gaze. Before he could say anything else – in fact, before he’d really processed what was happening – she’d circled one arm further around his waist and her other hand had slid into the hair at the nape of his neck and she’d pulled him into a kiss that rivaled any he’d ever had in its sheer intensity.

Cliched as it might have sounded, time seemed to stop in that moment.

The muted sounds of the seashore – gulls crying in the distance, waves breaking on the beach far below them, the far off strains of another tourist’s radio playing what Killian was fairly sure was an Ed Sheeran song – melted away the instant Anna’s lips met his. His own arms wound around her back, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap – a move that pulled a low moan from her that Killian felt as much as he heard it.

He turned his head, the tip of his nose pressing into the apple of her cheek as he deepened the kiss.  She mirrored him, parting her lips readily and making a happy little noise Killian swore he’d remember the rest of his life when his tongue darted inside and curled around her own. They spent endless minutes getting progressively lost in each other – hands wandering, breath stuttering, hips shifting restlessly – until Anna finally pulled back, a ragged chuckle tumbling from her lips as Killian instinctively followed her movements. “Wow,” she breathed.

“I heartily agree, love,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping shut as he leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “Not that I’m complaining in any way – but what brought that on?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “You believed in me, Killian…Killian…Killian?”

“Killian!”

He sat bolt upright in his chair as his attention snapped back to the present moment and he realized Anna was nowhere to be seen and he wasn’t on a mini-holiday to the coast. Rather, he was in one of the Cadre’s briefing rooms and the person who’d been calling him – for quite some time judging by her slightly irritated yet concerned expression – was one of his fellow Initiates. “Lieutenant French…er, Belle,” he said, “I’m sorry. I must have been lost in thought.”

Belle just arched an amused eyebrow at him and moved past him to take the seat next to him. “I’ll say,” she replied dryly. “You were staring off into space when I came in – you’re just lucky the rest of the group is running late. Is everything alright?”

Killian nodded sheepishly. “Yes…more than, actually.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if – without getting into the more personal details – he could share any of his happiness with Belle. Since the beginning of boot camp, they’d been paired together on several training exercises and instructional projects. Their training officers had indicated that they’d been paired because they had complimentary skill sets and aptitudes and would likely be detailed together within the Cadre once boot camp was complete – beyond that, though, Killian had grown genuinely fond of the diminutive yet fierce woman and as she seemed to feel the same about him, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. If he could tell anyone about Anna, he could tell Belle – Liam would likely warn him against getting “distracted” during his training, and what he needed right now was a listening ear, not his brother’s well-meaning but sometimes rigid stance on the rules. “I met someone a couple of weeks ago…”

“Oh really?” she asked, a note of interest coloring her voice. “Must be a really special someone – you were completely somewhere else when I walked in here.”

“She is,” he nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face even though he felt slightly like a teenager talking about his first crush. “I’ve seen her on every off day we’ve had so far, and I can’t stop thinking about her-”

“Clearly,” Belle interjected with a laugh.

“Ha ha…I’m serious, Belle. I feel like I’ve been knocked off my feet by her. I never expected this, much less that it would happen during boot camp – it’s getting harder and harder not to tell her what I really do. I know I can’t,” he rushed to say when Belle looked like she wanted to remind him of the Cadre’s need for secrecy. “But I don’t know how much longer I can go on seeing her and not tell her – it’s a big thing to keep hidden.”

“And you definitely want to keep seeing her?” Belle asked.

Killian shot her a look. “Clearly. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you might want to-” Belle began, but was cut off when the rest of their Initiate class began to file into the room, followed by Flight Lieutenant Dulac. She looked over at Killian, chagrined. Later, she mouthed and he nodded.

“Good morning Initiates,” Lieutenant Dulac’s booming voice greeted them. “Thank you all for being so punctual this morning,” he paused to stare pointedly in the direction of another Initiate, Warrant Officer Scarlet, who had barely made it through the door before the class had begun. “Welcome to the beginning of your Surveillance and Reconnaissance unit.”

Killian forced himself to stop thinking about anything but the class, pushing both Anna and his conversation with Belle to the back of his mind as he listened closely to Dulac’s lecture. Of all the officers who were guiding the Initiates’ training, Killian had quickly grown to admire Dulac the most and had gotten a great deal out of any session he led.

“…now, as we see here,” Dulac clicked through several slides in the PowerPoint presentation he was using for this class session until he found the one he wanted, “low-light photography can be a challenge even in this digital age. This photograph,” he gestured to the slide up on the screen, “was taken last week and though you can see Princess Emma quite clearly under the streetlight at the left of the image, her companion is unfortunately cast in shadow and it’s not possible to make out enough of his features for facial rec.”

“Not even with enhancement, sir?” one of the other Initiates – Locksley, an army Captain Killian had come to like and respect – asked from the far corner of the room.

Dulac shook his head. “No. The officer doing the recon work here was, by necessity, too far away to get a shot that would give us the right angle.”

“Well he shoulda got closer then, shouldn’t he?” this was from Scarlet, before Locksley elbowed him in an attempt to keep him quiet.

Dulac kept his cool. “Officer Scarlet, while it would have been ideal to get closer, one also must think about whether one has adequate cover to do so – it does no good to get the right photo and reveal yourself in the process. Showing that you are shadowing one of the royal family too closely tips off onlookers to the fact that they are the royal family, which immediately increases the dangers – especially in situations like this where the princess has ventured out incognito.”

Killian’s head snapped around at that, and, for this first time, he took a good look at the photo in Lieutenant Dulac’s slide – and all the breath seemed to rush from his body.

He recognized that street, and the tavern in the background.

Moreover, he recognized the man that Dulac said couldn’t be identified. Killian could identify him easily and immediately – because he was the man.

But what didn’t make sense was Dulac’s statement that this was a photo of Princess Emma, because this photo clearly showed his Anna kissing a mystery man on the cheek – you, his brain helpfully supplied – outside Two Wolves a week ago. For a moment, Killian simply stared at the photo, his brain refusing to fully process the information.

When the truth finally clicked in, he realized that he had far bigger problems than having to keep his place in the Cadre a secret from the woman he’d rapidly been falling for – she’d been keeping a far bigger secret of her own.

-/-

“Emma, a word,” her mother’s voice – soft but commanding – came from the other end of the corridor just as Emma was stepping out of her bedroom. She’d not seen her mother standing there and jumped at the unexpected sound of the older woman’s voice.

“God, Mom, don’t do that,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry,” the queen said, her tone softening a fraction. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I do need you to come with me.” Without further explanation, she turned on her heel and began walking towards her private offices.

Emma fell into step behind her, as she knew was expected, hurrying to catch up before her mother got too far ahead. “Is everything alright, Mom?” she asked after a few moments of walking in a somewhat stilted silence that was far from their usual easy camaraderie.

Her mother didn’t answer immediately, waiting instead until they’d reached her private offices and slipped inside. The queen shut the door behind them and moved over to her desk before responding. When she did, her words were not at all what Emma was expecting, and they caused the bottom to drop out of her stomach.

“Have you been to Two Wolves recently?” her mother asked, shuffling through a few papers on her desk before looking up at her expectantly.

Emma considered – for the briefest of moments – denying it outright, saying that it must have been someone who looked uncannily like her. But she knew that that wouldn’t hold up – particularly if, as it seemed, Queen Mary-Margaret already knew the answer to the question she was asking. Sinking down into one of the plush guest chairs that were placed in front of the desk, Emma nodded. “Yeah…a couple of times,” she muttered. “But you and Dad have never had a problem with it before.”

Her mother sighed. “We don’t have a problem with it now…not exactly. It’s just…it’s a little careless, Emma. The timing is not ideal.”

She sat up straighter in the chair, a wave of indignance flowing over her. She knew that perhaps she hadn’t made the best choice given the political climate of late – and maybe you’re feeling a bit defensive about that, she thought to herself – but she didn’t think it warranted her mother treating her quite so much like a child. “It’s not like I went out clubbing and got blitzed – Two Wolves is just about the safest place I could go, Mom. That’s been true since you were going there when you were my age,” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest and staring up at her mother with determination and a small touch of defiance. She hoped her mother didn’t have any further information about her evenings at the tavern – but just in case, deflecting her attention couldn’t hurt.

“My youthful indiscretions, such as they may be, aren’t the issue right now Emma,” her mother replied calmly, taking a seat behind her desk and sorting through yet another pile of papers until she pulled out a slim manila folder. “You know that this kind of behavior is against protocol – and while your father and I might have been inclined to turn a blind eye in the past-”

“So did Grandma, thankfully, or you might not have met Dad and Leo and I wouldn’t be here right now,” Emma cut in, refusing to feel bad about taking just a small bit of precious time for herself when her mother had done exactly the same thing when she was young.

“Be that as it may,” her mother carried on almost as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “We’ve got to enforce every bit of protocol right now. With Minister Gold picking at us and scrutinizing every choice the monarchy makes we can’t afford to give him any more ammunition for his schemes. So for a while, I am going to need you to put a halt to this kind of adventure,” she said briskly, opening the folder and pushing it across the desk towards Emma. “And, whoever this may be,” she gestured in the direction of the contents of the folder, “it would be best if you ended it for the time being…at least.”

The sinking feeling that had invaded Emma’s stomach at the beginning of the conversation only got worse – it now felt as though her heart were somehow simultaneously in her throat and on the floor somewhere near her shoes. Even before she looked where her mother had pointed, she had a good idea of what she’d see.

Closing her eyes in resignation, she sighed. It was completely stupid of me to think I wasn’t followed that second night. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Even as she reprimanded herself for not suspecting her Cadre guards had caught up and surveilled her on her return trip to the tavern, she bristled at the constraints her royal duties were once again placing on her.

(But all the same, she repeatedly and silently thanked whatever divine influence had kept them hidden – both from photographers and that week’s Cadre detail – when they’d gone to Fair Isle Bay).

All I’d wanted was something normal. Something just for me. Just for once. Looks like I was just fooling myself – God, I’m an idiot. How did I ever think this was going to work?

As she opened her eyes, they landed on a photo in the manila folder – the image was dark, and a bit blurry. If she had to guess, she’d say Lieutenant MacIntosh was the photographer – his handiwork was always a bit unfocused when he took long distance shots at night – but whoever had taken them, the photo was clear enough to show her pressing a kiss to Killian’s cheek before bidding him good night.

The only saving grace was that it was nigh on impossible to tell who Killian was, given the angle and distance of the shot. Even if her chances of seeing him were imploding with every minute that went by, she didn’t want him to get drawn into a messy background investigation by the Cadre for getting so close to her or, worse, pulled into the public eye by Misthaven’s rather voracious paparazzi.

“Emma?” her mother prompted, and she realized that she’d been silently staring at the photo for longer than was probably reasonable. She looked up at her mother, catching the older woman’s eye – her mother’s regal mask slipped for a moment and a flicker of understanding and empathy crossed her face. She smiled softly. “Believe it or not, I do understand the predicament I can sense that you find yourself in right now…but you need to end it. Now. Or at least find a way to pause things until Gold has settled down and backed off. Understood?”

Emma took one more lingering glance at the photo, thoughts of bright sun, warm breezes, and comforting embraces running through her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and nodded. “Understood.”

-/-

“You did what?!” Belle’s incredulous question echoed down the long corridor they’d found themselves in after their class had finished. They were tucked at the end, in an alcove, but her voice had risen enough that if someone were passing by, they’d be overheard. He didn’t immediately respond, simply looked at her for a moment, until she seemed to understand that she hadn’t misheard him. Her eyes widened until they looked impossibly large. “Killian, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Sshhhh,” he hissed, making a keep it down gesture with his hands. “In my defense, I didn’t know.”

Belle laughed – it was a sharp sound that seemed to burst from her almost involuntarily. “How could you not know?!”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to lash out at one of the only people he felt he could confide in about his predicament. Besides, he understood. If he were in Belle’s position, he’d probably be reacting the same way to hearing this kind of news. “I’ve only been out with her a few times, and she was wearing a bloody disguise – if you’re not actively expecting someone to be doing something like that, it’s a little hard to catch,” he retorted, not entirely successful at keeping the self-loathing edge out of his tone.

The truth of it was, he realized as he spoke, he’d been very free with his heart and he’d not known the woman he’d thought was Anna for very long. Or very well, apparently, he thought with a touch of bitterness. He was angry at the princess for the deception – and at himself for not seeing through it. Observation and deduction were part of his training – he was supposed to be good at them. What kind of Cadre guard would he make if he got fooled as easily as this?

It’s not the same thing, and you know it, his inner voice tried to reason with him. You weren’t on duty, you were just spending time with someone you cared about and who you thought cared about you. You weren’t expected to be on your guard. He didn’t know if he believed his own reasoning, telling himself that a better officer would always be on his guard – but before he could fall further down the rabbit hole of his own internal debate, he realized that Belle was asking him a question.

“I can see your point,” she said, her tone gentling a bit, though Killian felt he didn’t truly deserve her kindness. “But what are you going to do now that you do know?”

He shook his head and exhaled harshly. “I don’t bloody well know, do I?”

Just then, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first, but it continued to go off, buzzing three more times in quick succession. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and was startled to see four texts from Anna’s number. He let out a noise of surprise and showed Belle the phone. “Interesting timing,” she murmured. When he made no move to open them, she pointed at the phone. “Aren’t you going to read them? They might help you decide what to do.”

He felt like he was moving underwater as he nodded, everything slowing down as he swiped his thumb across the screen and brought up the message string he’d been sharing with Anna. Emma, he mentally corrected. The princess.

Killian, I’m so sorry to be doing this at all, but especially in a text.

I got news very suddenly, a family emergency – I have to go up north for a while.

I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be able to come back. I’ve enjoyed our time together more than you will ever know, but it’s not fair to ask you to wait around for me.

I’ll treasure these few weeks forever…goodbye, Killian.

He stared at his phone, disbelieving this latest turn of events, for so long that Belle finally jerked him back to the present moment with a gentle shove to the shoulder. “Well?” she asked expectantly.

“Here,” he mumbled, thrusting the phone into her hand so she could read the messages for herself. He scrubbed both hands over his face and back into his hair, trying to think of anything but the way that the princess’ fingers had felt as they’d traced the back of his neck, or the warmth of her as her mouth had opened easily under his. He wanted to hold onto the anger he’d felt at her deception, but her texts had reeked of sadness and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same.

Despite all the things they’d kept from each other, what they’d felt for each other was real. They’d each seen the truth of the other’s heart underneath everything else – he was sure of it. But he didn’t have any idea what to do about it now. He just felt hollow and tired.

“Well,” Belle said when she finished reading the messages. “I guess that answers that.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he agreed.

“It still sucks though,” she said, slipping her arm through his and pulling him down the corridor in the direction of the mess hall. He’d been so engrossed in his revelation and subsequent meltdown he’d not realized they’d almost missed their chance at lunch.

“Yeah, it really does.”

-/-

In the week that had passed since Emma had, effectively, put an end to things with Killian via text, she’d been fairly miserable – and that had been putting it mildly.

The depth of her disappointment had taken her by surprise – she’d only gone on a few dates with him, after all. They’d barely begun to be something, but so abruptly losing even the possibility of figuring out what they could have been still hurt.

Even if you have no idea if you could have made it work once you’d revealed who you were, it still would have been nice to have the chance to figure that out on your own, she thought to herself bitterly. She was angry with Minister Gold for his ridiculous political intrigues and irritated with her mother for bowing – even temporarily – to the pressure he was putting on the monarchy. But most of all, she was upset with herself for putting herself in this position in the first place. She knew better than anyone the pitfalls of opening your heart up too soon.

This isn’t like that, she chastised herself. Killian didn’t turn out to be some foreign diplomat’s secretly skeezy son only looking for a good time with ‘rebellious royalty,’ and he isn’t a self-important Duke who just wanted to use my title to advance his own social status.

As she thought of her unfortunate prior romances – if you could have even called them that – she continued to argue with herself about whether trusting Killian, and starting to have real feelings for him, had been a mistake.

Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter, she realized. It’s not like you’re ever likely to see him again.

After a couple of days of wandering around the palace, thinking over the same internal argument again and again, she decided that the best thing she could possibly do would be to get away for a little while. She decided to go to Glowerhaven. It was north of Misthaven – at least then your messages to Killian would be less of a lie, she thought – and spend a few days at her grandmother Ruth’s country estate. It would do her some good to get away from the city, and she always enjoyed the chance to spend some time with her grandmother in the place where her father had grown up. If anyone could put her current predicament into perspective and give her some much needed good advice, her grandmother would be able to.

With one last thought spared for what might have been, she retreated to her rooms to call her grandmother and pack.

-/-

Killian didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his life.

Even when he’d been waiting to find out if he’d gotten into the Naval Academy and if he’d be able to join Liam in the service he’d not been this twisted up inside.

But when the morning of the Cadre Installation Ceremony arrived, and there had been no further word from the Princess after her texts ending the whatever it was that had been brewing between them, Killian realized that he’d stalled for as long as he possibly could on deciding how to handle the little matter of having secretly dated the Crown Princess for a few weeks.

(And snogged the hell out of her on a hillside in Fair Isle Bay, but no one else would learn about that anytime soon – or ever – if he could help it).

When he’d had the realization in the middle of surveillance training that his mysterious “Anna” was actually Princess Emma, his first impulse had been to confess absolutely everything to the officer in command of all Initiates and throw himself on the mercy of his superiors. Belle, however, had convinced him that he should keep quiet about it – at least for the time being. He cast his memory back over the rest of the conversation they’d had that day the week before when everything had gone sideways.

“Listen,” she’d said, a determined look crossing her face. “As far as we know, the only three people who know about this are you, me, and the Princess, correct?”

“Yeah,” Killian nodded, his shoulders slumping as the weight of everything that he’d done settled over him – even though he’d been unaware of “Anna’s” real identity, he still felt a responsibility for what had happened. He should have been more aware, been more on his guard – despite Belle’s protestations to the contrary. “Well, and the entire corps of Cadre Initiates who saw Lieutenant Dulac’s presentation just now,” he continued, a weary resignation creeping into his tone.

“Ah ah ah, no,” Belle said, pointing her finger in his direction with each syllable she uttered. “They know the Princess was with someone – not that it was you.”

“I fail to see how that’s going to help me in the long run,” he retorted. “Despite what Dulac thinks, someone will probably be able to clean up that image enough for facial rec, and even if not, Emma knows and she’s going to have me booted out of the Cadre – if not out of the military altogether – the next instant she lays eyes on me. You want to be entertained by the sight of me being hauled away by the palace guards? Just wait for the Cadre Installation and you’ll see.”

Belle shook her head decisively before he’d even finished speaking. “I don’t think so, Killian. I think you’re reading the situation the wrong way round – she’s not going to want to say anything about it any more than you do.”

Killian wasn’t sure about that – he wasn’t sure about much of anything at the moment – but the stress of the situation was making him blank out on finding a solution, and he trusted Belle. He nodded for her to continue. “Why d’you think that?” he asked, a seed of optimism cautiously taking root in his gut. Belle seemed so certain of everything – he could only hope that that confidence came from some viable insight into how to fix this mess.

She sighed, moving off to his side so that another group of Cadre Initiates could pass by them as they made their way out of the mess hall. She waited until they were out of earshot to turn back to him, diving right back into their conversation as though there had never been a pause. “Because,” she said firmly, “if she did anything to get you kicked out of the Cadre, she’d have to attest to why…and she’s not going to want to admit that she was sneaking out of the palace to run around with a strange man-”

“Oi!”

“-in downtown Spero all the while intentionally trying to evade her guard detail. It would be difficult enough for her to admit to that kind of recklessness under any circumstances, but now? With Minister Gold scrutinizing everything the royal family’s doing – trying to make some case for changing the order of succession or some other nonsense – she’s really going to be following protocol to the letter, and she’s going to want to give off the appearance that she’s always done just exactly that. So…do you see why she wouldn’t say anything about you to anyone?”

After a moment of thought, Killian nodded slowly. It was a slim chance, but it was better than nothing – admitting his entanglement with the Princess would be a sure way to get kicked out of the Cadre, and losing the chance to be part of this elite group was simply not an option. Saying nothing and hoping that Belle’s assessment of the Princess’ mindset was correct was a bit dicey – it didn’t give him the chance to get out ahead of the story if it ever did come out – but he couldn’t see any other way to proceed. At least this way, he’d have a chance of things working out in his favor – a small one, to be sure, but that was better than nothing.

Killian snapped his attention back to the present when a trumpet flourish sounded and the heavy doors at the opposite end of the throne room were pulled open. Queen Mary-Margaret and King David entered, following a few steps behind by Princess Emma. They proceeded to the raised dais at the front of the room and stood facing the row of soldiers and sailors who awaited them – the nine new Cadre Initiates and three training officers – all in their dress uniforms, pressed and polished to a shine.

He knew the precise moment during the installation ceremony when the Princess became aware of him. Her gaze landed on him while her mother was giving a speech of welcome to the group and when their eyes caught, Emma’s widened noticeably and her entire posture went rigid. She looked away almost immediately, and though Killian kept his gaze on her for quite some time – until he was forced to turn his attentions back to the ceremony for their individual inductions into the Cadre – she never looked at him again.

He’d known that this was the likely outcome – in fact, it pointed to Belle’s being right about how the Princess would react to the entire situation – and yet his heart sank. This should have been one of the best days of his career, and, to tell the truth, he was still ecstatic about officially joining the Cadre – but what should have been a purely happy day now had something of a cloud hanging over it. He didn’t know until precisely that moment how much he’d still been hoping that she’d look at him the way she had that day in Fair Isle Bay. The fact that she couldn’t bear to look at him at all made him feel like a knife was twisting in his gut.

If this was how it was going to be, it was going to be a long three years.

-/-

For the next week, they barely saw each other.

After the installation ceremony, Emma’s first guard detail had been a friendly, sandy-haired army captain named Robin Locksley and a quieter, more reserved air force flight lieutenant named Mulan Fa. Emma had breathed an internal sigh of relief when Killian hadn’t been immediately assigned to her detail, though an almost equal pang of disappointment had twisted in her gut.

Make up your mind, Emma – you either want to see him or you don’t. Either you’re angry at him for hiding who he was or you understand since you did the same thing. You miss him or you can’t deal with being around him. Pick a damn feeling and at least try to stick to it, she chastised herself. All this emotional back and forth isn’t getting you anywhere productive, and it’s absolutely exhausting.

But despite giving herself several rather stern pep talks over the course of the past week, she hadn’t been able to figure out what to do about this thing with Killian other than just make herself scarce and avoid him whenever possible. Even though he wasn’t on her personal detail, she still did see other members of the Cadre from time to time in the palace – she simply learned which detail he was on and crossed paths with it as little as possible.

Very mature, Emma. Real leadership material you are if you can’t even take charge of your own love live, barely existent though it is.

Rolling her eyes at her own inner monologue, she stepped out from underneath one of the porticos that ringed a small courtyard on the residence wing of the palace. It was one of her favorite places in the entire royal dwelling because of the fountain and the small row of rosebushes tucked at one end of the neatly trimmed green lawn. They were abloom with a pale pink variety of rose that had some complicated Latin name, but that the people of Misthaven had long ago dubbed “the Middlemist.” They were Emma’s favorite flower, and this spot – part of the palace, but still semi-secluded – was often the place where she’d go to get time alone when she needed to think.

This morning, she was supposed to meet her new detail – since the guard details changed weekly – and then head out for her daily morning run in the royal park. It was something she was really looking forward to – her morning exercise routine was usually the only time she got during the day where she could fully clear her head. Her detail was usually already there when she came to the courtyard, so she was more than a bit surprised not to see anyone when she arrived there that morning.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was only a few minutes past the time when she was meant to meet them, and decided to stretch while she waited. If they weren’t here by the time she finished, she’d have to go and let someone know, but with the new Cadre so recently installed, she didn’t want to have to get anyone in trouble for something so insignificant.

After a few quiet moments of stretching and planning her route for that morning’s run, she heard footsteps and muffled voices at the other end of the portico. She straightened up and glanced in the direction of the noise, and it suddenly became crystal clear why her guard detail had been late that morning.

A petite, dark-haired woman who Emma was fairly sure was an army lieutenant – though she was a bit fuzzy on the woman’s name – stood next to one of the portico’s columns, dressed in running clothes and doing her own stretches. She was – very pointedly – not looking at the other member of Emma’s new detail for the week, but Emma herself couldn’t look away.

It was Killian.

Of course it was Killian.

Because, clearly, the universe hated her and she couldn’t catch a break.

They stood there for a moment, an awkward silence billowing between them, before Emma shook her head as if to clear it. Addressing them both, but looking more directly at the woman, Emma said the first thing that came into her mind. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but can you remind me of your name, please? The installation ceremony was a bit of a blur.”

The other woman smiled softly and bobbed her head in a brief nod. “Understood, your highness. Lieutenant Belle French, Royal Misthaven Army, and this,” she gestured to Killian, “is Lieutenant Killian Jones, Misthaven Royal Navy.” Emma’s eyes flicked over to Killian and he nodded at her as well, but unlike when Belle had done it, the motion seemed stiff and slow. He continued to gaze at her intently – the blue of his eyes boring into hers as though he wanted to say something to her, but didn’t quite know the right words to use.

I know exactly how you feel, she thought grimly.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Belle asked, pointing towards the end of the courtyard nearest to the exit they would need to take to get outside of the palace walls and into the royal park.

“Um, yeah…yes, I guess,” Emma replied, before a thought occurred to her. “But why are you both dressed like that?” she pointed towards the workout gear that Belle and Killian were both sporting. “Usually, I run and my detail follows a little bit behind in a golf cart.”

Belle and Killian looked at each other for a moment, before Killian turned back to her, his face serious. “We know…your highness,” he said, and hearing his voice directed at her for the first time in weeks caused a traitorous swooping sensation to spring to life in Emma’s stomach. She tried to tamp it down as she listened to what he was saying. “But Lieutenant French and I thought it might be beneficial to try something a bit different.”

He paused expectantly, and she nodded for him to continue.

“Well, we think we should run with you your highness. One of us out in front and one just behind – it keeps us closer to you, should any threat surface, and lets us respond more quickly. We’ll have means of contacting the rest of the Cadre should there be a need, and, of course, we’ll be armed.”

It made perfect sense – though none of Emma’s previous details had ever taken the time or initiative to think of it. They’d always just used the cart and carried on with the task exactly as it had been done before. She thought about it carefully for a moment. On the one hand, it would be very awkward to go running with Killian (and Belle – her mind supplied helpfully – which could make things even more awkward) after everything that had happened – on the other, if she were being honest, she missed him. Besides, the idea made too much sense to disagree with.

Nodding, she turned and headed for the exit Belle had previously indicated. “Sounds fine to me,” she tossed back over her shoulder in an attempt to keep her inner turmoil over the entire exchange concealed – now is not the time to deal with what happened between us, she reminded herself. She moved quickly, itching to just be outside and underway. “Just try to keep up, okay? I like a certain pace.”

-/-

The first part of the run sped by in uneventful silence.

Belle – the traitor, Killian thought mutinously – had taken the advance position. Her discreet, grey and black patterned running outfit was visible about ten yards ahead of where the princess was keeping a steady, but not punishing, speed. He was close behind the princess, only about three feet back, and he’d been making a valiant effort not to let his eyes skim down to where her leggings clung sinfully to her trim form. It was extremely difficult – in no small part because he remembered what it felt like to hold her, and to have her lithe hips pressed into his as she maneuvered herself closer and urged him to wrap his arms around her more tightly – but instead, he watched her sleek ponytail swing back and forth for a few strides before tearing his attention away to scan the countryside. Nothing seemed amiss, but one could never be too careful – that’s literally why he and Belle were present.

After roughly twenty minutes, though, the princess broke the quiet hush that had fallen between them. Though she was just far enough ahead of him, and had spoken softly enough, that he had a bit of trouble making out what she’d said.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, finally tearing his gaze away from scrutinizing the expanse of low, rolling hills that faded off to their right and speeding up slightly to fall into step beside her.

After a brief pause during which the princess continued to stare straight ahead and Killian began to think he’d hallucinated her ever speaking to him, she repeated herself. “I’d imagine you have questions,” she said, her tone surprisingly matter-of-fact given the situation they’d found themselves in, and he couldn’t help but allow a snort of surprise to escape him.

“I might,” he replied swiftly, trying to keep his tone light, though he felt a bit taken aback that she was actually addressing – even obliquely – what had passed between them over the last several weeks.

“Well, go ahead and ask, then,” she said, a touch of tartness creeping into her voice. “I can feel you staring at the back of my head as we’ve been running – it’s incredibly distracting.”

They continued for the space of a couple of heartbeats in near total silence before he found his voice. She’s giving you an opening – you might not get another one, and you have to know, he told himself while looking off to the other side of the path to examine the area for any unexpected threats. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just start with the thing he was most curious about. “Did you know I was in the Cadre? Did you know who I was?”

He was watching her carefully when she responded. The shake of her head was almost immediate. “No,” she replied, her breaths coming a bit faster as they picked up their pace a bit. “My mother and father always pick the new Cadre Initiates, in consultation with the Privy Council only. The full names aren’t shared with anyone in the palace, not even me, until the installation ceremony.”

Killian thought over the newspaper article that had come out at the start of training, and what he knew of the Cadre’s privacy policy in relation to the general public. It made sense, he just was a bit surprised that the same thing went on inside the palace walls. “I see,” he murmured, pondering what that might imply about the princess’ actions towards him.

“Yeah,” she said, more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. “It’s tradition that only the King, Queen, and council may choose – just another case of clinging to the old ways even though it’s the twenty-first century.”

He couldn’t help it – he chuckled a bit at that. Her fire now reminding him of when he’d thought she was Anna and that day at Fair Isle Bay – her desperation to find her own way, and the intense way she’d looked at him when he’d told her he’d believed in her, were being echoed in the here and now. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to realize that maybe there was some of that spark still between them even though their circumstances had changed so radically since they’d last had time together one on one.

But she seemed to take his laughter the wrong way, looking at him sharply and biting out a question of her own. “How about you? Did you know who I was? Were you thinking that you were so smart, seeing past my disguise and having a bit of fun with the princess when no one else knew?”

Killian felt as if the breath had been knocked from him, but was opening his mouth to answer – though, truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he would have said – when she leveled yet another pointed question at him.

“And if you did know, were you going to…” here she seemed to falter for a moment, but she regrouped, steeling her expression as she turned to look at him. “Were you going to do something with that information?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, partly insulted by the insinuation but even more than that, he was shocked that she could think that he was capable of something like that. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, it was true, but he’d believed that in that short time they had truly known one another.

Apparently not.

“Your highness, if you are implying that I was intending to blackmail you in some way,” he replied, his words clipped, “I must assure you most vehemently that I was not.” She’d stopped running a moment after he had, and he quickly closed the small distance that had opened up between them. “We might not each have known who the other really was, but I know that what I was starting to feel was real. I had thought – I’d hoped – that you’d felt the same.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open but she said nothing for a long moment. When she finally found her voice, she’d barely breathed a remorseful-sounding “Killian,” before he cut her off. He needed to step away before he completely imploded and said something he’d regret.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, since we’ve stopped I’m going to take the opportunity to switch out positions with Lieutenant French. She’ll be with you in a moment and I’ll take point up front until we return to the palace.” He inclined his head automatically – the training to show respect to the royal family still deeply ingrained even though his own personal feelings were in complete turmoil – before stepping away and jogging up to where Belle was waiting.

Though his better sense knew that Emma wouldn’t call after him, it still stung a bit that she didn’t.

-/-

She watched him cover the short distance up the road to where Lieutenant French had paused, unable to hear what they were saying and grateful for the few moments alone – before the other Lieutenant reached her, she needed to have pulled herself together.

What had she been thinking, practically accusing Killian of setting her up for blackmail? He was right – she might not have known everything about him during their short time together, but she did know what kind of person he was, and it wasn’t the sort who would sell someone out for their own gain. He wanted to earn everything he was given, and his code of honor was far too strong. With a sharp pang of longing, she remembered teasing him about what he’d called his “good form” during one of their earlier conversations.

You should have known better, Emma, she chided herself. Though, really, that seems to be true of everything you’ve done lately.

She knew she was careful, guarded – the paparazzi had dubbed her Misthaven’s “Prickly Princess” for her notoriously tough attitude – but she’d had to be. One mistake, and the court of public opinion would eat her alive, and by extension, have ammunition to use against her family – which could then be picked up by opposition politicians and used to leverage anti-royal sentiment in the parliament and Privy Council.

She’d learned that the hard way several years ago when the son of a visiting dignitary had seemed to take an interest in her. She was young and – though she hated to admit it – more naïve than she was now. He was a few years older than she was, and he’d seemed charming, experienced, exciting. She’d thought he’d been serious about her, that he’d actually wanted to get to know her, and so she’d let him woo her a bit – gone on a few public dates with him, which had all been fine and respectable and aboveboard. Her parents had been cautious, but as nothing had seemed amiss, they hadn’t objected when she’d wanted to keep seeing him. They’d stolen a bit of time together every time he’d accompanied his father when the older man traveled to Misthaven on political business, and he’d even flown in a few times just to spend time with her.

But then, after dinner one evening in the restaurant of one of Spero’s best hotels, he’d gotten on the wrong side of tipsy and tried to take her up to a room he’d rented. She’d not been ready for that step in their relationship and his rather aggressive attempts to change her mind had been ended quite abruptly. He’d proven himself to be either brazen, an idiot, or both, because her Cadre detail had been surveilling from a discreet distance but were still there, witnesses to everything that happened. But when he’d grabbed her by the arm and attempted to haul her into the hotel elevator, the Cadre guards hadn’t even had time to intervene before Emma had taken matters into her own hands – in a manner of speaking.

It was a very good thing that all the paparazzi photos had been confiscated immediately by the crown. It would have been an extreme scandal, after all, for the Princess of Misthaven to have been photographed kneeing her otherwise well-esteemed date in the crotch. Her parents, backed by the most trusted members of the palace staff, had made absolutely sure that every copy of every photo – along with every digital file and print negative – disappeared.

But despite their best efforts, when her former suitor and his father were suddenly persona non grata at the palace, the story had come out – even if not in full detail. The palace’s official press statement had given just the bare bones, and kept the focus on Emma’s companion’s bad behavior and downplayed their budding relationship as much as possible. There had been whispers of the more salacious details of that final date – rumors, nothing of substance, but just enough to fuel the tabloids. They’d run headlines like “Royal Rebel” and “The Highness’ Hijinks.” The scandal had been fairly limited, and had blown over quickly, but it had given just enough material to the opposition party at the time to create difficulties between her parents and certain members of the Privy Council.

That was difficult enough for the royal family to deal with, but what was far worse for Emma was feeling like she’d let her parents down. They’d assured her that it wasn’t her fault, and had nothing but anger and disdain for the former object of her affections. They placed the blame squarely on his shoulders, but Emma saw herself as responsible for letting him fool her into thinking he’d cared in the first place and had retreated into herself for a long time, becoming the “Prickly Princess” instead of the “Royal Rebel.”

Until Killian, her thoughts traitorously reminded her. He got right through those walls of yours without even trying at all.

She swiped away the frustrated tears that had slipped from her eyes after he’d walked away, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly in an attempt to pull herself together. She was mostly composed by the time Lieutenant French joined her, but the other woman still regarded her quietly for a moment when she stepped into place next to Emma.

“Is everything alright, your highness?” she asked politely, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble while waiting for Emma’s response.

“Fine,” Emma managed, though her voice sounded rough and choked up to her own ears – Lieutenant French must have heard it too, for her attention quickly snapped back to Emma, her eyes sharp and her mouth pulling into a tight line, but she made no comment.

“As you say, miss. Do you wish to continue or turn back?” she asked, her tone slightly flatter than it had been a moment earlier, as if her thoughts were elsewhere – or, perhaps, as though she’d judged Emma and found her lacking somehow. The idea was disconcerting and Emma wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Uh, um…let’s go just around the next loop,” Emma said, gesturing towards the road beyond where Killian now stood. It twisted through Emma’s favorite section of the royal park before turning back to connect with the road they were currently on at a point that was closer to the palace. She hoped running in one of her most loved places would soothe her, but she wasn’t too optimistic.

“Yes, miss.” Lieutenant French replied in that same flat tone before signaling to Killian, who set off at a jog before slowly picking up the pace. They fell in step behind him, Lieutenant French keeping up with Emma easily as they regained their earlier speed.

For a few moments, the two women ran together in an awkward silence. Somehow, Emma thought, it was even moreso than the one she’d just been sharing with Killian before their fight. After several minutes of this, Emma found she couldn’t take it anymore. “Lieutenant, can I ask you something and will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course, miss,” came the immediate and brusque reply, though the lieutenant didn’t look in Emma’s direction.

“How well do you know Lieutenant Jones?” she asked as quietly as she could, given that she was mid run and didn’t want to break stride again.

Lieutenant French’s head turned swiftly in Emma’s direction, the woman’s gaze catching Emma’s own briefly before she turned back and focused on the road. “We were training partners, and now we’re detailed together, miss.” She said before glancing back at Emma again with a hesitant look on her face. She seemed to want to continue, but didn’t move to speak, so Emma gestured for her to go on. “But, what I think you’re really asking me is…what kind of person is he?”

Emma nodded, taking her own turn to stare down the road and avoid her companion’s gaze.

Lieutenant French remained quiet for another moment before speaking softly yet intensely. “He’s honorable and kind. Brilliant and funny. Everything a good officer and a good person should be,” she waited for Emma to look back at her before she continued. “I trust him completely, and you can too,” she said. “Is that what you wanted to know, miss?”

Breathing hard, and not just from the exertion of their run, Emma managed another nod.

They ran the entire rest of the way back to the palace in silence.

-/-

Emma went straight to her rooms immediately after they returned to the palace – she took a shower and pulled on her most comfortable pair of pajamas, curling up among the soft pillows on her still-made bed. She knew she should put in an appearance at dinner – there were no formal state events on the calendar for the evening, but her parents still expected her to dine with them in the private family dining room – but she wasn’t hungry and she couldn’t bring herself to go down and go through the motions of acting like nothing was wrong.

So she called Elsa and asked her to send word to her parents that she was tired and that she’d be having dinner in her rooms that evening, and that she’d call the kitchens herself if and when she was ready to eat anything. After hanging up, she sank further down into her pillows and drifted into a haze of memories. She mentally sifted through everything that had led her to this current moment – all of her interactions with Killian, certainly, but everything else as well. Her romance with that diplomat’s son, her habit of sneaking out and visiting Two Wolves incognito from time to time, the whole “Prickly Princess” reputation, Minister Gold’s latest power-hungry schemes, and the deep desire she had to carve her own path and be more than a royal figurehead. She wanted to be able to lead her people in a way that would truly make a difference to them, but – given Misthaven’s somewhat traditional stance on “appropriate” roles for a Princess to play in matters of state – she wasn’t sure how to begin, or even if she’d be able to.

She wasn’t really aware of time passing, lost in her thoughts as she was, until a soft knock pulled her out of her reverie. She sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears and leaning back against the small mountain of pillows behind her. “Come in,” she called, a bit surprised by how scratchy her voice sounded.

The door swung open slowly and her mother’s head peeked through the gap. Concern flickered across the queen’s features when she took in Emma’s rumpled state, and she quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?” she asked as she came over to sit on the edge of the bed near Emma’s feet.

Emma sighed, a somewhat nasal sound. Must be left over from crying earlier. “That seems to be the question of the day,” she muttered.

The queen quirked a curious eyebrow in Emma’s direction, her gaze so penetrating that it seemed to peer directly into Emma’s heart, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. They were quiet for a moment – Emma making at least an attempt to pull herself together and look a little more composed – before the queen spoke. “This is about that young man, I’d gather. The one in the photographs?” It sounded like a question, but Emma knew that it wasn’t.

She nodded anyway. “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze shifting down to where her hands were playing with the edge of her duvet. “I know you told me to end it…and I did…but…” she trailed off, searching for the right words to explain. “I just…” she petered out again, emotions choking her and rendering her unable to speak until her mother’s fingers laced with her own and squeezed tightly.

She looked up, finding the queen’s gaze and seeing no trace of the formal monarch, but only her mother – the woman who’d hugged her tight whenever she was hurt or upset as a child, who’d always encouraged her to follow her dreams, who was perhaps the only other person Emma knew who had experienced the pull between public duty and private emotions in quite the same way. She wasn’t sure if it was the wisest idea to tell her mother all the details about Killian – she wasn’t sure how the queen would react, especially since she’d not seemed keen on Emma seeing someone when the surveillance photos had surfaced – but she had to tell someone. She couldn’t take bottling everything up anymore.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop talking – the entire tale spilled out easily. The feelings of frustration at Gold’s latest political intrigue, her hopes to do something meaningful with her position and despair that she might never really be allowed to, sneaking out to Two Wolves, meeting Killian, being charmed unexpectedly, getting to know him better over the last several weeks (though she thought it prudent to leave out the mind-boggling kisses from their picnic), then breaking it off only to find out he was part of the Cadre. She told her mother everything, all the way up to their fight earlier in the day, and when she’d finished she felt oddly better and lighter. A calm settled over her – no matter what happened next, at least she’d been honest with herself about all of her feelings.

The queen was quiet for the space of several heartbeats, and Emma cautiously raised her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze, unsure of what she’d see. The look of compassion and understanding that was shining back at her was an incredible relief for Emma – also a bit of a surprise, if she were being honest.

“Oh, Emma,” her mother started, her voice clearly laced with deep emotion. “I’m so sorry that you ever felt as though you didn’t have a place in leading Misthaven – your father and I have been so focused on strategizing how best to hold our own against the more aggressive members of the council and the more discontented factions in parliament, that I fear we’ve fallen back on relying only on each other out of habit.”

“It’s alright, Mom, I understand,” Emma murmured – and, on some level, she did. She’d been raised on the stories of her parents’ epic love match and brilliant political partnership. The most memorable tale had been the one in which they’d defeated a coup attempt shortly after their wedding. It was a sometimes daunting legacy to live up to.

“No, my darling girl, it’s not – and you shouldn’t have to.” Her mother leaned closer and brushed a strand of Emma’s hair back behind her ear before cupping Emma’s cheek with her free hand. “We’ve been so wrapped up in handling current issues the way we would have in the past, that we haven’t been thinking of the future – of you – as much as we should have. We’ll be fixing that immediately.”

“Really?” Emma asked, a note of hope creeping into her voice. “I have so many ideas-”

“And your father and I would love to hear them,” her mother replied. “I’ll clear our calendars tomorrow morning and we’ll start the conversation, alright?”

Emma nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely.”

“Now, as to the other matter,” the queen said briskly. “We need to discuss what to do about-”

“Killian,” Emma finished for her mother. She chuckled dryly, a sound with no humor in it. “I didn’t think that anything could be worse than what happened the last time I let myself open up to someone – at least there were no paparazzi this time around, or else it would’ve been an even bigger mess.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened with that diplomat’s son, sweetheart,” her mother said firmly. “He was an entitled, arrogant braggart who brought every bit of that shame on himself, and, frankly, I’d probably have kneed him even harder than you did if I’d been in your position. I really wanted to do it anyhow,” she finished matter-of-factly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said, a small smile finally causing the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards – it was a very brief thing, but it made her feel better nonetheless. “But as I told you that night, I still contend he kneed himself in the balls.”

The two women stared unblinkingly at each other for a moment before both breaking out into soft, but uncontrollable, laughter. “That should have been the official press statement,” chuckled the queen. “Why didn’t we think of that at the time?”

Emma shrugged. “Don’t know,” she replied with a laugh before her current predicament sobered her mood once again. She squeezed the hand that still held her mother’s. “But it doesn’t really help me to figure out what I do now.”

The queen regarded her for a few moments, and though Emma’d tried to guess at exactly what her mother might say, she wasn’t able to predict the words that the queen actually uttered in that moment. “Emma, you’re the only one who can make that choice.”

“But what about the council’s reaction? And Gold? And-”

“Sweetheart,” her mother said firmly, now squeezing Emma’s hand in return. “None of that matters. The only important thing is how you feel. I know now that the burdens of your royal position have been weighing on you rather keenly lately – and I am so very sorry that I hadn’t realized how much – but nothing that’s going on with that changes anything about this. What’s important is what you want.”

“I want to fix things with him, but I don’t know how,” Emma murmured, slightly stunned at the fact that her mother seemed to be advocating for her pursuing some sort of relationship with Killian. Not that there is a relationship to advocate for right now, given the way that we left things the last time we saw each other she thought regretfully, flashes of their fight replaying themselves in her mind.

“Oh, I have no doubt that you can,” her mother said, a note of mischief entering her voice. “If he’s half as taken with you as you are with him – and given what you’ve told me, I think he is – I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Emma shook her head slowly, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her mother wasn’t more concerned. She’d expected more skepticism, or caution, or something – not this rather unabashed positivity and upbeat attitude. She’d thought she’d have to work a lot harder to convince her mother that a relationship with Kilian was a good idea, and the fact that the queen had gotten on board so quickly was kind of throwing Emma off-kilter. “I don’t know…it’s going to be really complicated. Maybe it’s simpler to just let it go.”

Her mother shook her head decisively. “It is simpler to do that, but that doesn’t mean it’s better, sweetheart. Anything worth having – really worth having – must be fought for. And you, my dear, have always been a fighter. Besides, fighting for love is the most worthwhile thing of all.”

She sat up straight, nearly dislodging several of her pillows with the sudden speed of her movements. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, Mom. Who said anything about love? Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?”

“Not really.” The queen leveled a knowing look at Emma, squeezing her hand once more before letting go and standing up. “Not if those surveillance photos are anything to go by, at any rate.”

Emma sat speechless as her mother brushed off her skirt and headed across the room. The queen had swung open the door and was about to step through when Emma finally found her voice. “You’re not worried I’m making a bad decision?”

Her mother shook her head and turned around, locking eyes with Emma when she did. “Emma, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your instincts and how they lead you to make good decisions – most of the time, at least,” she said with a teasing arch of her eyebrows. “Trust your gut – listen to what it’s telling you. You’ll do the right thing for you, and whatever that is, your father and I will support it,” she promised, turning and stepping out of the room.

“You don’t think Dad will object?” Emma asked incredulously. “He took the last guy I was even remotely interested in down to see the royal armory and made vaguely menacing comments to him the whole time! I never heard from the guy after that! And what about the council?!”

Emma was still staring at the quickly closing door when it suddenly swung back open part of the way and her mother’s head popped back into view. “I’ll handle your father, don’t you worry. And don’t you worry about the council – your father and I have just figured out a few things that should put a halt to Gold’s machinations for the foreseeable future. Now,” she paused and pointed a finger at Emma as if to underline her final point. “You just try to be discreet while the lieutenant is finishing his Cadre cycle – I’m not saying put a halt to…things…” at this, she thought her mother blushed slightly before recovering. “…just try your best to keep the press from getting too interested in you both as a story, alright?”

Emma nodded. “I think I can manage that,” she said, a small seed of optimism taking root, despite her very real worry that Killian wouldn’t forgive her.

“Oh, and one more thing,” her mother said casually as she turned again and began to leave once more. “I meant what I said about the way you make decisions, Emma, but don’t forget, proposed Cadre Initiates each receive a thorough background check as part of their selection process. Your father and I have read enough about your Lieutenant Jones to know he’s as honorable as they come. I think I can speak for us both when I say the only concern we’d have would be if he’d care well for your heart.”

“He would,” Emma said softly, but with conviction, the tears from earlier threatening to make a reappearance. “That is, I haven’t ruined things between us.”

Her mother shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Emma to try to process everything that had just happened. She couldn’t deny that she felt better than she had when she’d initially come back to her rooms, but everything she’d been sure of had just been turned upside down yet again. Her mind was whirling and she was torn between thinking about which of her plans and projects she wanted to cover with her parents during their strategy session the following morning and trying to come up with a way to fix things with Killian.

An idea for the latter began to take hold in her mind – it was a simple plan, so hopefully it would have the best chance of working. A grin spread across her face slowly.

Now she just had to wait for the perfect moment to set it all in motion.

-/-

Three days.

It had been three bloody days since he’d fought with Emma – with the Princess, he mentally corrected himself – and continuing on her detail had been nothing short of torturous. They’d been near each other constantly over the past several days, but without any opportunity to speak to each other beyond basic pleasantries.

Though you’ve got no idea what you’d say to her anyway, so maybe that’s for the best, he thought, a frown stealing across his face in response to that realization.

The princess had been extremely busy in the last three days – starting with a meeting with her parents the morning after their fight. When the door to the queen’s private rooms had opened after the meeting, he’d been sure that he was about to be dismissed – the king was looking at him with thinly veiled suspicion, he’d been sure of it. But the queen seemed to be regarding him with an inexplicably fond look, before she’d threaded her arm through her husband’s and drawn him away down the corridor. Emma had flicked the briefest of looks in his direction before she’d taken off at a brisk pace in the opposite direction and he and Belle had fallen into step behind her.

Since then, Emma’d been embroiled in a succession of meetings and other palace business practically non-stop. In her few free moments, she’d been eating, sleeping, or deeply engrossed in research – though on what, he couldn’t say. It had made the idea of approaching her to apologize for his behavior very difficult to put into practice, and the further they’d gotten from their fight, the harder it was to bring it up again at all. Not to mention that she’d been so busy that she’d been skipping her morning run, eliminating one of the best opportunities for him to speak to her alone.

They’d settled into a sort of uneasy half-truce, or at least that’s what it felt like to him, where they didn’t really avoid each other – though given that he was assigned to her detail, she couldn’t very well avoid him altogether – but they didn’t interact very much unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is why hearing her voice at nearly midnight, coming from the shadowed expanse of the courtyard to his left, was a bit of a surprise.

“Killian?” her voice calling his name floated towards him out of the near-total darkness. “Can you…can you come here…please?”

He hesitated a moment before stepping onto the grass, recognizing it as the same space where he and Belle had met Emma the morning of their fateful running session. She was seated at the far end with one leg tucked underneath her on a low, raised stone wall that encircled a small fountain. In the corner, near a line of Middlemist bushes, an old hanging lantern that had been retrofitted for electricity dimly illuminated that she was playing absently with the cuff of her left sleeve as he approached.

She looked up at him as he drew closer and opened her mouth to speak – but suddenly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear whatever it was she had to say. “Princess, I do hope you’re having a delightful evening,” he began, falling back on hyper-formality to cover the insecurity that had flared to life in his gut. “But if you’re not in need of anything, I’m going to go consult with Lieutenant French about a few matters.”

He’d taken only a couple of steps towards the covered portico that ran along one side of the courtyard before Emma’s voice brought him up short. “You can’t.”

“Pardon?” he sputtered, his reply far less eloquent than he’d have preferred. “Why not?” he asked – he couldn’t think of a single reason Emma would have for barring him from speaking with the other member of his detail.

Emma stood up and crossed the grass to where he was standing. She looked up at him, her beautifully green eyes seeming even larger when they caught and reflected the moonlight. “She’s not here – I sent her back to Lieutenant Humbert to make the nightly report.”

“She agreed to leave you alone?” He knew that they were on the palace grounds, and there were likely no immediate threats to the princess’ safety, but he was still stunned that the normally rule-abiding Belle would have broken protocol so blatantly.

“I insisted, and I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be,” Emma said, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I knew you’d be along shortly for shift change, and I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Oh?” Killian’s pulse kicked up a notch and the sense of trepidation he’d been keeping at bay for the last several days increased. Perhaps he was going to be dismissed, and the princess just wanted to do it herself. He kept his face impassive and his words formal as his gaze fell to hers. “How may I be of service, your highness?”

Emma simply looked at him for several long moments, her eyes searching his and her expression far too soft for someone about to make a pronouncement that would ruin his career. She opened her mouth a second time as if to speak, but closed it again before stepping closer to him and starting over. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and tinged with regret, “for everything I said to you the other day. Killian, I…you were right. What was starting to happen between us was real, but you have to understand,” she looked up at him pleadingly, “it’s not easy to know who to trust when you’re in my position, and I’ve…I’ve been burned before by exactly this sort of thing. I got scared when we discovered each other’s real identities, but I shouldn’t have been…in my heart, I always knew what kind of person you are, and you didn’t deserve my suspicion, or my accusations. I’m so sorry.”

She finished and took a step back, her eyes flitting away from his while he stood staring at her, dumbfounded. Of all the things he’d expected when he’d found her alone in the courtyard, this turn of events wasn’t anywhere on the list. It took him a few moments to find his voice, and even as he began speaking he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was going to say. He wasn’t at all surprised, though, when he heard himself saying, “It’s alright. I owe you an apology as well-”

Her head whipped up and she shook it vehemently. “You really don’t-”

“I really do,” he insisted, taking a deep breath and scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “I was being selfish – I knew I couldn’t tell you who I was because of protocol and I kept seeing you anyway. I put you in a difficult position and when the truth came out, I spoke very harshly to you – and I was more than a bit of a hypocrite about it all. I’m sorry, Emma.”

He’d barely realized that he’d used her given name for the first time since he’d found out she was the princess when the air between them seemed to take on an electric charge. “Say that again,” she whispered, stepping back closer to where he stood.

“What? That I’m sorry?” he said, a note of teasing creeping into his voice as he mirrored her, moving close enough that they were almost touching. “Because I am, you know.”

“No,” she shook her head, smiling at him as she pressed up on her tiptoes and her arms crept around his neck. “Say my name again – please.”

A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned down, murmuring Emma against her mouth before his lips covered her own. This kiss was so unlike the previous ones they’d shared on the day of that fateful picnic – those had been filled with the urgency of newness and, he realized now, it was more than likely that Emma had thought it might have been the only one they’d ever share. By contrast, this one was slow, languorous, unfolding as lazily as if they had all the time in the world and intended to spend it solely with each other.

When they finally pulled back, his arms had wound fully around her waist and her hands were firmly entangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He imagined that his expression mirrored hers, dazed but so very happy.

“Well,” she said on a laugh, sounding delighted and far more carefree than he’d ever heard her in the short time he’d known her. “That makes this next part easier.”

“Next part?” he asked absently, more focused on trailing one hand slowly up and down her back, tracing random patterns as he went. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation before she blinked and focused on him again.

“Yes,” she nodded decisively. “The part where I ask you out on a date – where we both know who the other person is, Killian.”

“A date?” he repeated, feeling as dizzy as though he’d been whacked over the head with something rather large and heavy. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “How would that even work? With you being…well, you and me being in the Cadre. What would it even look like?”

She grinned – brightly enough to light the whole courtyard without electricity – in response. “Well,” she murmured, scratching her fingernails lightly against the back of his neck in an extremely distracting way. “I don’t exactly know yet. I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to help me figure that out.”

He looked down at her, mind still reeling with everything they’d said – not to mention getting to kiss her again – and fully aware of the challenges that would lie ahead for them both if he accepted. But as he stared at her happy, hopeful expression, and felt a similar one on his own face, he knew there was only one answer in his heart. “With pleasure, Emma.”

Her happy laugh rang through the courtyard for a moment until they lost themselves in each other once again.

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

ROYAL REBEL WITH A CAUSE: PRINCESS EMMA SET TO OPEN NEW CHARITIES TO PROMOTE ADVANCEMENT OF MISTHAVEN’S WOMEN AND SUPPORT AT-RISK CHILDREN

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, MAY 30, 2023 – Today, Princess Emma of Misthaven finally realized a long-held dream. With her husband, Commodore Killian Jones, at her side, the princess – who is expecting the couple’s first child late this summer – presided over the openings of two new organizations of which she will serve as patron.

The first, Move Forward Misthaven, is a group dedicated to supporting the advancement of women in all industries and areas of study, but with a particular focus on the fields of business, political science, and education. “The goal with Move Forward Misthaven is to elevate talented women in all fields and cultivate them for the leadership roles they are eager to inhabit,” the princess related when asked about her reasons for founding the organization. “We are dedicated to broadening Misthaven’s horizons as we look to the country’s future as a player on the world stage.”

The second group, Stand Up Misthaven, will tackle the much-needed task of providing aid and resources for at-risk children – ranging from educating teachers on how to prevent bullying in schools, to coordinating with youth shelters to provide better care for homeless teens, to evaluating the Misthaven foster system to overhaul its quality of care. “We must speak, we must stand up, for those who cannot do so for themselves – and there are few who are more in need of aid than children, those who look to us for care, for love, and proper direction.” The princess stated in an impassioned speech she gave at the organization’s opening. “Stand Up Misthaven will advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves.”

Princess Emma has long been an unusual figure in the Misthaven royal family, far more concerned with active public service than traditional diplomatic endeavors, though it is only in recent years that the royal protocols have been altered to allow her a more hands-on role in public leadership. This personal approach will continue with both of her new organizations – the princess will serve on the board of both, but will also make use of her graduate degree as a political science course leader for Move Forward Misthaven. She is also set to speak in front of parliament next week on behalf of improvements to the Misthaven foster system in support of Stand Up Misthaven.”

Ever marching to the beat of her own drum, the princess likewise bucked tradition with her marriage to the common-born Commodore Jones just over a year ago. Jones, who had been a member of Cadre 2018 – and who declined the offer to stay on as training officer for Cadre 2021 two years ago in favor of returning to Misthaven’s Royal Navy – has gained distinction at every turn and has accumulated a service record littered with honors and promotions, starting well before his romance with the princess began.

 One or two students waved, a few others smiled and as they filed out she couldn't help but make a few guesses as to which ones would drop.  But, she sighed, her job wasn't to worry about each individual student who dropped, it was to make sure that those who stayed got what they paid for...or what their parents paid for, anyway.  "Cynical much?" she muttered, cramming the papers into her bag before shutting off the lights and hurrying out the door. 

Emma took the stairs to her office on the fourth floor and with an hour left before she needed to leave to meet Mary Margaret, sat down to grade the exams.  She made it through three of them before her attention wandered to her laptop and the possibility that a new message might have arrived from Clark, as she hadn't heard from him in a few days.  Had he returned from his business trip?  Or maybe she should be asking herself was when had she started to care?

 December 2017 

Since moving to Miami, Emma, as well as many of her colleagues, spent the holidays at the home of their boss, David Nolan.  As the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, he worked hard to make sure that no one was alone over the holidays, and as Emma was best friends with his wife, Mary Margaret, she found she didn't mind. However, as the years went on and the number of single faculty decreased, it seemed that everyone had someone they wanted her to meet. The problem was, how could they know exactly what Emma needed when Emma didn't even know? 

Mary Margaret said she needed her very own Prince Charming, which was how she described David.  Emma wasn't so sure.  She liked David...a lot...and he was a great boss, but to be married to someone like that, she just wasn't sure. 

Belle told her she needed a bad boy, like the man she had married.  But, once again, while she could definitely say there were some aspects of the bad boy that had attracted her in the past...she didn't think she could marry him.

 Her past romances had taught her what she didn't want, but what did appeal to her?  Someone who challenged her…yet cared about her opinion.  Someone who was caring, witty and not afraid to say he was sorry.  Someone who would sweep her off her feet when she needed him yet allowed her to walk alone. A man who, like a pirate in the night, would sneak up and steal her heart so effortlessly that she would never want to let him go.  Who was he? Where was he?  Was he someone she had yet to meet? 

The group this year had been smaller and while it had been an enjoyable day, Emma was ready to go home and curl up with her six-month-old kitten, Ginger.  She said her goodbyes and was just opening her car door when Mary Margaret came running down the walk.  "Emma, hold on," she huffed, "you forgot your gift." 

Emma took the green envelope and frowned a little. "You gave me my gift the other day.  What's this?" 

"Well," Mary Margaret began, but her body language and the way she seemed to struggle for the right words served to put Emma on guard. "David and I just want you to be as happy as we are so we kind of..." 

Her hesitation had the hairs on the back of Emma's neck standing straight up and convinced her that she was most likely not going to like it.  "What did you do?" she asked hesitantly. 

Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "Just read the letter and remember...we love you." Then she quickly hugged her and with a little wave disappeared back inside. 

With a shake of her head, Emma tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat and drove home.  Once inside, her curiosity got the better of her and she ripped the envelope open and pulled out several sheets of paper.  The letter was from a dating site she had heard about from some of her friends called Magical Matches, whose slogan was “Your True Love is only a keystroke away.” With a roll of her eyes at the matchmaking persistence of her friends, she tossed the letter on her desk deciding she would deal with it later. 

For a week Emma moved the letter from one place on her desk to another, but never had the desire to read what it had to say. And since Mary Margaret and David had left on a cruise, she didn't have to explain herself either.  Which left the door open for her to turn down several invitations for New Year's Eve and welcome in 2018 her way...movies, champagne and her favorite dessert. 

The day had been perfect.  She lounged in bed until Ginger insisted it was time to eat, and then after a run to her favorite bakery she had settled in with a cup of hot chocolate and an excessively large bearclaw. She made it through The Sound of Music before taking a small break to entertain Ginger and then dove back into The Promise. 

A grilled cheese and a bottle of water carried her through An Officer and a Gentleman and The Lake House.  And then she pulled out dessert and cut a piece of her hazelnut cheesecake with chocolate drizzle that she had picked up earlier and popped the cork on the champagne.  With those in hand, Emma sank down onto the sofa and sang along with the songs that were in the movie Pretty Woman. 

Halfway through the bottle of champagne, she decided to watch Ghost, and as the last drop of bubbly was poured into her glass, her tears started to fall.  Why was she alone on New Year's Eve?  If there was a man just for her, where was he? 

As one year gave way to the next, Emma pressed play on the movie that seemed to have the man of her dreams.  He was a dichotomy in that one side was shy, awkward and unsure while his alter ego was cocky, confident and caring.  And while he had been portrayed many times by many actors, none quite pulled off both side as well as Christopher Reeve. 

As she watched Clark Kent's shy puppy behavior around Lois Lane, Emma found herself with such a goofy smile on her face that she had to look away. Unfamiliar feelings were coming to the surface, but before she gave them too much thought, her attention was diverted when Ginger jumped up on her desk and started batting everything onto the floor. "Feeling left out?" she crooned, picking up the kitten and cleaning up the mess she'd made, which included a pile of papers. 

Stacking the papers neatly proved to be more difficult than it should have been, as little paws were busy swatting at everything that moved.  Emma tossed one of Ginger's toys, thinking she would run after it and had just straightened the pile when, with one jump, the kitten landed in the middle and everything scattered everywhere again. "Ginger!" 

"Mew," Ginger responded, looking up at her with such an innocent expression that Emma couldn't help but pick her up and hug her. 

"What am I going to do with you?" Emma murmured softly, her eyes landing on the letter from Magical Matches.  Unsure what caused her to open it, Emma picked up the letter and sank down onto her desk chair to read. 

Dear LostGirl, 

Your Magical Match is CapnJolly. Whether you contact him or not is up to you, but if you choose to do so, please follow the instructions on the included page. 

Best of Luck, Ruby Lucas President Magical Matches 

Emma stared at the words on the page for so long that Ginger batted at her arm for attention.  Should she or should she not?   

Her gaze was drawn back to the television screen that was showing Superman turning back time to save Lois Lane, and she made her decision. She wanted to find that someone who would jump with her. Before she could change her mind, Emma read the directions for signing into the server and composed her email: 

Dear CapnJolly, 

My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not. 

I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side.  Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be. 

I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important. 

Your Magical Match, 

LostGirl 

A quick proof was all she allowed herself before she hit send because she knew that if she thought too long about it, she would end up deleting it.  This way, it was done.   

Early February 2018 

He had written back the next day and somehow through the various computer conversations, she had grown to look forward to hearing from him.  They had discussed everything from their favorite books to their favorite movies and had even spent several exchanges talking about pasta.  He knew she wasn't a morning person, ate Pop-Tarts for breakfast and enjoyed walks on the beach. 

But...he didn't know who her best friend was, that she was a professor at a university in Miami or her real name.  There were some parts of herself she needed to keep close...for privacy, she tried to tell herself, but really for protection, for as long as the wall was up...she was safe.  Or was she? 

Her phone was in her hand before she realized it, her thumb hovered over the app to open it, but since there was no notification, Emma set the phone aside and finished grading the test she had started before getting lost in memories. Once she was done, she dropped her pen, locked her office, and had taken less than ten steps when she heard her name being called from behind and, knowing who it was, fought to keep from ducking into the women's room just ahead. But since it was her boss...and her best friend's husband, she plastered a smile on her face and slowly turned around. "David, what committee are you trying to fill now?" she asked him with resignation. 

"No committees, Emma," David smiled, "I just want you to meet the man who will be taking over Belle's classes while she's out with the new baby." 

"Oh?" Emma's brow went up as she sized up the man standing next to David. "I thought you were going to spread her classes around." 

"Well," David put his hand on the man's shoulder, "I didn't know that the brother of one of my dearest friends would be available so...let me introduce Killian Jones." 

"Emma Swan." She shook his hand while trying to remember where she had seen him, and while making small talk, surreptitiously studied him.  Not quite as tall as David, dark hair he wore longish, but gelled back except for a few strands that fell over a high forehead, square jaw that was clean shaven, smallish ears tight to his head and blue eyes rimmed by dark lashes that were covered with a pair of oversized dark glasses.   

He wore dark pants, white shirt with a muted tie, covered by a tweed jacket, and in his hand he was holding a fedora...just like Clark Kent come to life. "No, Killian...Killian Jones," he repeated, and she realized she must have voiced her thoughts aloud. 

"I'm sorry," Emma hastened to add, "I've got to run. I have a lunch meeting." And before she could embarrass herself or David any further, walked away.  Rude, perhaps...but for some reason being in the company of Killian Jones gave her a strange feeling. 

She looked back as she started down the stairs and both were still standing there with their mouths hanging open.  She shrugged, "It's your wife, David. You know how grumpy she gets if someone is late." 

As she walked across campus to the Shalala Student Center, Emma thought about how David had smiled and waved her off as he was used to her behavior, but Killian Jones had looked almost relieved. "That's odd," she muttered, spotting Mary Margaret across the room seated next to a window. 

"What's wrong?" her friend asked before Emma was even situated in the chair. 

Emma frowned. "David just introduced me to the person taking Belle's classes and I know him...but from where, I'm not sure...yet." Then it hit her and after an excited inhalation, she continued, "Remember that conference I went to last fall and I---" 

"Complained about one of the speakers for weeks?" Mary Margaret finished her sentence. 

"Yes," Emma shook her head, "it's him.  His ideas were really..." Simplistic, archaic...annoying, she thought.  "But I don't want to talk about him.  Let me fill you in on Clark." 

~~~CS~~~ 

When Emma left, Killian slowly let go of the breath he was holding, as he hadn't been interested in a confrontation with a colleague so soon after joining the team. 

"Sorry about that," David interrupted his thoughts to make excuses for the Swan girl. "Emma can be prickly, but she's a fine instructor and has co-published with another professor in the area of psychophysiology.” 

Killian didn't say anything, just nodded his head in a 'that's alright' motion, as he much preferred observing to confrontation anyway.  Besides, it seemed that Emma apparently had a very comfortable working relationship with his soon to be boss and he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot.  And that was on a professional front...on the personal front, he would hate to create any issues, as Liam would kill him. 

He followed David as he was shown around the college, but once they left the Flipse Building behind and started walking across the campus, Killian could finally relax.  The warm temperatures and soft breeze were a welcome change from the snowy cold of Wisconsin and the damp cold of London.  So much so, in fact, that he found himself second-guessing his wool tweed jacket and fedora. 

"Here we are," David indicated the modern building in front of him, "our 46-million-dollar student center." 

"That's a lot of money." Killian looked on in amazement at the chrome and glass structure surrounded by lush, tropical landscape. 

"Donors with deep pockets," David intoned, leading him around the building. "These gliders okay?" he asked, pointing to a patio dotted with wooden seating areas. 

Killian looked out over the sparkling lake surrounded by green grass and nodded, "It's fine, mate."   

David led them to a wooden table, flanked by benches and covered with a wooden umbrella, and slid onto one side. Killian followed suit, sliding onto the one across and when it surprised him by moving, he unceremoniously fell, almost slipping off the seat, knocking his glasses askew. 

"You okay?" David asked quietly. 

Killian blushed and straightened his glasses while hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed. "Fine, fine.  I just...ugh...slipped." He ran his finger from one side to the other under his collar, thinking that he was feeling a tad warm. 

"You're not too hot, are you?"  David asked just as the wind whipped around them. 

The breeze served to cool him down a little, but even with the pomade in his hair, it was strong enough to blow an unruly lock over his forehead. "I might have to rethink my jackets while I'm down here." 

David grinned as their orders were set in front of them. "Ditch the jacket.  We're a pretty loose group.  One of our faculty comes to work in board shorts and flip flops." He shrugged, "As long as you're decent and do the job." 

Killian couldn't quite see coming to work in shorts but thought perhaps a lighter wardrobe might be in order.   

With the gentle movement of the seats and the steady hum of the fountain, he found that his attention kept drifting to an email he needed to write. He wanted to share this new opportunity but worried it would be crossing some unspoken line that she had arbitrarily set up between them. "I could get used to this," he found himself uttering. 

David laughed. "Well...we do have a faculty member retiring in May, so..." he left it hanging in the air. 

Could he live in a place of perpetual sunshine, across the pond from his brother and family and friends?  "I'll keep that in mind," he finally managed, but decided it was definitely something to think about. 

While they ate, Killian was content to allow David to carry the conversation.  He parceled out information on the school, places he thought Killian should visit, restaurants he frequented and tidbits about his wife, Mary Margaret before segueing into escapades he and Liam had been involved in when they had met at University. 

Killian had just popped a salty chip into his mouth when he heard, "David, I didn't expect you to be here," and a dark-headed woman leaned over and kissed his dining companion, answering his question about her identity. 

His eyes were drawn to those of the woman standing next to the dean's wife and the iciness of her green stare answered his question as to whether or not her antagonism had been his imagination.  Her eyes skittered away first, moving to the vicinity of his chest and feeling his face flame, his gaze moved out to the lake. 

Killian listened to David speak to his wife, finding that he envied the easiness with which they spoke.  When he was introduced, his habits of old kicked in and after a brief hello, he sat back and answered only when spoken to, feeling as if the words were lodged in his head, but unable to be spoken.  Only when he was communicating with... 

"David, Doctor Jones," Emma interrupted his thought and tipped her head in farewell as she moved to follow her friend. 

"Whoa," David's brows rose, "what did you do to upset Emma?" 

Killian didn't really feel the need to explain the whole misunderstanding over the paper he presented and just shook his head. "Professional differences, I suppose.  You know how psychologists' philosophies often differ from those of sociologists," he finally settled on. 

David studied him for an extra second. "That I do.  I need to head back now, is there anything else I can help with?" 

"Point me toward the Metrorail?" 

~~~CS~~~ 

Emma was expecting Mary Margaret to say something about her treatment of Jones, and so when they had walked around the lake and her friend hadn't said anything, she couldn't stand it any longer. "I know I was rude, but he..." 

"Gets under your skin.  I know." Mary Margaret sent her a quick grin. "But he's cute." 

A snort burst forth before Emma could contain it. "Kind of like a puppy dog.  Did you see the chip crumbs on his tie?" 

"He just needs a good woman to help bring him out of his shell." Her friend laughed. 

"Maybe," Emma agreed, "but that's not me. After all, I've got..." 

"Clark, I know," Mary Margaret said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. 

Once back in her office Emma continued with her grading, not stopping until she was finished.  She had just completed adding all the grades to the computer gradebook when her phone buzzed.  A glance at the notification sent a little thrill through her system. "Clark," she giggled excitedly as she swiped the app to read the message. 

~~~CS~~~ 

Killian had rented an apartment overlooking Biscayne Bay, steps away from Bayside Marketplace and an easy commute by train to the University. He had chosen the place not only for the scenery, but because it offered a large balcony, which he had been drawn to the minute he had walked in the door.  Large glass windows lined the back wall revealing the blue water of the Bay for as far as the eye could see. And as a sailor, even if it was just for recreational purposes, the blue, blue sea calmed him and soothed his soul. 

Since he had been in residence, he had discovered a pattern in his behavior when he returned to the apartment. Upon entering, with a flick of his wrist his hat would land on the table, his jacket and tie would be flung over the sofa, and as he unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt with one hand the other grabbed his laptop as he gravitated to the balcony. Symbiotic...or at least it seemed that way to him, for it needed him to enjoy its beauty as much he needed its ability to soothe him. 

"And today's no different." Killian stretched his legs in front of him and watched the water below, noting the coming and going of the tour boats.  He had thought about taking one of the cruises but felt more of a need to be the one in control, which was unlike him.  Different from any time in his life he could remember, making him question what had caused the change.  Or better yet...who? 

January 2018 

The new year was only a few hours old, and while Killian had enjoyed spending the evening with his niece, Piper, he couldn't help but wonder when he would find his own Buttercup. That wasn't something he often thought about because, generally, he was happy with his life. He taught classes, did research, wrote and spent time with his family.  But there had been something different about this year's New Year's Eve. He had watched The Princess Bride with his niece and found himself feeling...lonely...bereft even...as if something...or someone...was missing. 

It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting down at the piano, his fingers running over the keys, almost subconsciously picking out the notes to the theme song from the movie he had been watching. But that didn’t seem to help the restless feeling he had and eventually pushed up from the piano, eventually settling in a chair losing himself in thought. 

"Killian?" He looked up as Elsa came into the room. "Any trouble tonight?" 

He sent her a small smile. "Not at all. Why would you say that?" 

"No reason," she shrugged a shoulder, "you just appeared...I don't know...lonely, I guess." 

He surprised himself by answering quietly, "I was just wondering about my Buttercup." 

"Oh?" Liam's voice joined the conversation, "Something to share, Little Brother?" 

Killian shook his head, almost wishing he hadn't said anything. "Just a comment after watching your daughter's favorite movie, that's all." 

Killian watched Liam and Elsa exchange a look that said a lot, but what exactly he wasn't privy to, and then Liam disappeared in the direction of his study only to reappear with a red envelope in his hand. "Take a chance, Killian." He handed the envelope over before holding his hand out to Elsa. 

Elsa leaned over, kissing Killian on the cheek and then wrapped her arm around Liam as he came to his feet, "Love is worth it. Night, Killian." They moved down the hall toward their room and Killian was left alone with his thoughts. 

It had taken him a few days before his curiosity led him to open the envelope, and by the time he had, the letter from his magical match had been waiting for over a day. 

Dear CapnJolly, 

My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not. 

I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side.  Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be. 

I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important. 

Your Magical Match,

LostGirl 

"She's looking for a bloody Superman," Killian mumbled, pushing away from his desk to pace in front of it.  "How's a normal bloke expected to live up to that?" He stopped pacing long enough to stare in the mirror at his image. "You're certainly no Superman," he told the man looking back at him.  "But, maybe you could be his alter-ego, Clark Kent.  With that in mind, he sat back down to try to put together a response that didn't make him sound like an arse. 

Dear LostGirl, 

I, too, am skeptical of this process working but was reminded recently that skepticism is often the first step to a great discovery.  And since one can only truly fail if they don't try, I would like to see if I'm up to the task of breaking down a few of your walls, much like the man of steel. 

I am looking for someone who is loyal and willing to fight for what she wants.  Someone who isn't interested in trying to change me, but who accepts me for the man I am.  Someone who loves me enough that even after years together, it is always as exciting as the first time.  Someone who challenges my mind and allows me to challenge hers. 

Are you willing to roll down the mountain with me? 

Your Magical Match, 

CapnJolly 

~~~CS~~~ 

February 2018 

Killian admitted that he had sent that first email mainly out of curiosity, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before one day he had signed his message as Superman's alter-ego, Clark.  It hadn't been planned, but had just happened, and she had understood...and with her signature, she become his Buttercup. And now, four weeks after their initial emails...she mattered, and that was cause for concern.  The anonymity made it simple, as he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing because each and every word he wrote had been thought out. The awkwardness that he felt around women that caused him to inevitably do or say something foolish wasn't a problem because the more he corresponded with his Buttercup, the easier it became.  The ease hadn't transferred to other women though, as today with Emma Swan, he had been tongue-tied and felt like a gauche teen. Not a promising start to the next few months. 

The revving of a boat motor served to pull his attention back to the task at hand, that of composing a new message for his magical match. He had some things he wanted to share with her, but while he had been open about his likes and dislikes, he was still holding his identity, his family and his location close.  Why, he couldn't say, but something told him that his Buttercup wasn't quite ready for taking that next step.  He still needed to scale a wall or two. 

Opening his computer, he started typing, but for every word that he wrote, he deleted two.  It took him the better part of an hour to get the right tone, to get the right words, but once he had written everything out, he hit send.  No second thoughts.  Once sent, his heart fluttering in his chest and his nerves skittering along his skin, he couldn't stay inside any longer. A quick change into running shorts and Killian headed to the beach to run. 

~~~CS~~~ 

The message from Clark wasn't long, but many of their messages weren't.  They had fallen into the habit of asking each other a simple question, or of relaying information.  It was a way to share pieces of themselves without going too far out on the limb.  Or, in her role of Buttercup, a way to take a few steps down the hill, or if necessary a few steps back up the hill.  Safe...but still satisfying...and exciting. This time was different though, as he had shared more about his location and even asked for her help. 

Dear Buttercup, 

I'm sorry I've not been in touch for a few days, but I've recently sailed into a new harbor.  For the next few months, I'll be sailing where the sun shines and the water is warm.  The only problem is that I find myself at odds with one of my shipmates and I am vexed as to how to repair the rift.  Would you have any words of wisdom for this weary sailor? 

Yours, 

Clark 

She read the message through once...and then read it through once more, but this time very slowly. She kept thinking that taken at face value, his words meant one thing, but that maybe there was a hidden message too. However, after several minutes of coming up with no answer, she decided to answer him once she had returned home.  Ginger had been alone too long and if she were bored, who knew what she would get into. 

Emma lived in a small neighborhood in the town of Coconut Grove, located not far from the University.  It was a small community located within the city of Miami but was easily accessed via the Metrorail and close to the shops at Bayside Marketplace and the night life and beaches of South Beach.  Most days she took the train but knowing that she would be staying late grading papers she had driven. Now as she dealt with the rush hour traffic along the US-1, she had second and third thoughts, finally driving into her driveway an hour after leaving her office.   

With a slight hesitancy as to the mess she might be walking into, Emma unlocked and slowly pushed open the door.  She took a step into the foyer and when the floor was clear let out the breath that she was holding.  Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her briefcase onto a side table and turned around to hang up her jacket when, out of the corner of her eye, an orange flash ran around a corner.   

"Ginger?" The kitten was gone but trailing across the floor was a strand of cream colored yarn that matched the afghan that Mary Margaret had given her for Christmas.  "No, no, no," she repeated rapidly running to the T.V. room to find it spread across the floor. "Ginger," she groaned picking it up, finding where the mischievous kitten had found a loose strand and had taken off.  Holding it tightly in one hand to keep the blanket from further unraveling, she followed the trail that led down the hall and around a corner into her bedroom where the kitten had gotten sidetracked by her hair ribbons, now spread around the room.   

Emma quickly picked up the ribbons, tossed them on the dresser and went looking for the kitten.  She wasn't in the kitchen but she had been, as her box of toys had been upended and its contents were spread across the floor. Ginger wasn't in the study either, however there was evidence of her as she had knocked her pens off the desk, which left the bathrooms.  Emma could hear the kitten before ever entering the room and, as expected, found her destroying a roll of toilet paper. 

"Ginger!" Emma picked up the kitten and tucked her under one arm and then picked up the mess. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked her friend carrying her into the kitchen and setting her on the floor while she got out the kitten food.  Once Ginger had her nose in the kitten food, Emma set her sights on her own meal, finally settling on a slice of cold pizza and dropping down in front of her computer. 

Clark's question about advice to help sort out a disagreement between co-workers reminded her of her feelings regarding Killian Jones.  Having sat in on a portion of a presentation he had given, she had left early after hearing him say that growing up in the foster system was what caused social deviance. What would she need to change her mind? Was there anything?  Maybe there was, she thought as she sat down to type out her message. 

~~~CS~~~ 

Killian spent the next several days thinking about what Buttercup had suggested while he went about his professorial duties. Preparing lectures and PowerPoint presentations to match the students’ needs ended up taking extra time, but once that was complete, he went back and reread the last message. 

Dear Clark, 

Rifts are often caused by a misunderstanding. Perhaps if you can figure out where the misunderstanding occurred, you can clear that up. 

Good luck, 

Your Buttercup 

He knew exactly what had caused the rift between him and Emma Swan as it had to do with a paper he had presented on social deviance.  All he had to do was figure out why she'd had such a visceral response to his presentation...and correct it. Simple, right? 

"Killian?" He turned to greet David, who happened to be standing next to a man wearing board shorts and flip-flops. 

"David, how are things?" 

Pleasantries exchanged, David introduced his companion, "I'd like you to meet August Booth. August, Killian is covering for Belle." 

After a few conversational exchanges, David excused himself and Killian and August began walking back to their offices. Along the way, August shared a few more pieces of information about his specialty as well as filling him in on a few idiosyncrasies of the other faculty members.  "Had any run-ins with anyone yet?" 

"Not really, no." Killian tugged on his right ear, and straightened his glasses, habits he was aware of resorting to when he felt uncomfortable. 

"That look is telling me there's more in what you're not saying. Come on, spill," August encouraged. 

Killian didn't respond right away but waited until they were in his office.  He leaned back against his desk and looked over the man standing in front of him, deciding perhaps he could fit another piece to the puzzle. "Nothing, really...just...Emma Swan took offense with a paper I presented last fall, but I'm unsure as to why."  He picked up a copy of the paper, handing it to August. 

"Creating Social Deviants in the Foster System; A Case Study," August read aloud. "This was the paper?" 

"Aye," Killian answered. "What about it?" 

"It's not really my story to tell," August prefaced before continuing, "but Emma was raised in the foster system and so this--" 

"--is a touchy subject." Killian finished his sentence.  "I get it now.  Thanks, mate." 

"Anytime." August handed back the pape.  "I’ve got to run, but if you ever want to go wakeboarding or windsurfing, let me know." 

Once he was gone, Killian dropped down onto his desk chair and tried to figure out his next step.  He had inadvertently upset a colleague by making her think that he was maligning an entire subset of individuals who were near and dear to her heart.  He wanted to make it right, for her vexation with him left him feeling unsettled, for more than what could be taken at face value.   He wanted Dr. Swan to read his entire paper.  Perhaps then the confusion could be cleared up, their working relationship would be amicable, and the unsettled feeling he had would disappear. Question was, how to get it to her. Mailbox...leave it on her desk...slide it under her door?  All possibilities, except the likelihood of her tossing it in the garbage without reading were 70/30.  What then could he do? 

He was on his way to place it in her mailbox when he was presented with an unexpected opportunity.  Killian reached to open the door to the department office and without looking barreled inside running headfirst into Emma Swan, who was carrying a box full of papers.  "What the hell!" he heard as the box was dropped, landing on the toe of his wingtips. 

"Ouch!" Killian yelped, also dropping the article and exam he'd been carrying before realizing that Emma was just staring at the papers that were slowly sliding out of the box at his feet.  Old habits kicked in. "Uh, sorry Doctor Swan." He bent over and began haphazardly shoving the papers back inside the box. "I didn't look where I was going. I was," he looked around locating his exam and held it aloft, "going to make copies of this test and I..." The last piece was shoved inside and, standing, he pushed the box toward Emma, unaware that he had taken a step forward. 

"Uh," Emma let out a gasp as the box hit her in the chest and only the fact that Killian was still holding on to it kept it from once again landing on the floor. 

"Sorry about that." He gave her a sheepish grin, relaxing his stance a bit, thinking she looked a bit shell-shocked for lack of a better word.  "Are you alright?" 

She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts and took the box out of his hands. "I'm fine," she answered his question solicitously, before her voice took on its usual clipped tone. "Thank you." She brushed past him, leaving him standing there alone. 

Killian righted his glasses and tried to remember why he was standing in the doorway to the department office.  As if in a trance he looked down at the papers he was holding and snapped his fingers, "Ahh, yes. Copies." He left his order for his exam to be copied but it wasn't until he was back in his office that he remembered the article and wondered where it had ended up. 

~~~CS~~~ 

Her lecture over, Emma handed a pile of the Developmental Psychology article to each of the rows and once everyone had a copy, moved back to the podium.  "Read these over for next class, please, and we'll discuss them then," she instructed before turning her attention to shutting down her PowerPoint. 

"Doctor Swan," Emma's attention was pulled to one of her students, Henry Mills, a gangly, dark-headed boy, who laid a small stack of papers on the podium. "I think I accidentally picked up a copy of the wrong article." 

Emma handed him the correct one before looking down at the one he had originally been given and, seeing the title, felt her brows raise in question.  How had a copy of the Jones' article ended up with hers? 

But then the scene from earlier in the day replayed in her mind of when he had run into her, knocking the box from her hands. She had stood there like an idiot while he had shoved all the papers back into the box, handing them to her.  Just as awkward as always she wanted to say but then...he had asked if she was alright and there was something in his voice that was different.  The way his British accent curled around the syllables and the huskiness of his tone sent...dare she say...a shiver up her spine?  She had to have been mistaken, she ultimately decided, before shutting off her computer and packing up. 

Once back in her office, Emma set the article in front of her, trying to decide what she should do.  Throw it in the trash and pretend like she never saw it, put it in his faculty mailbox, or take it to his office and give it to him?  With a shake of her head, she suddenly remembered how angry she had been when she had heard the beginning of his presentation last fall, and without thinking, she picked it up to toss in the garbage.  But before she could let it go, her curiosity got the better of her and, pulling it close, she read. 

Thirty minutes later, she finished the article and buried her head in her hands and mumbled, "Damn!  How could I have been so wrong?" 

Before she could change her mind, Emma grabbed her jacket, her phone and the article and left the building, making her way across campus to the chemistry building.  "Mary Margaret!" She burst into her friend's office without knocking, "You'll never believe what I..." She stopped when she noticed that Mary Margaret wasn't alone, for sitting in front of her desk was the very man she had come to talk about.  "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company.  I'll come back." 

"No, don't go," Jones stopped her from leaving, "I need to leave anyway."   

Without any further fanfare, he covered his dark hair with his fedora, and with a tip of his chin, left the room.  Unsure what to say, Emma sank down onto the seat he had recently vacated noting it was still warm and a musky scent still lingered in the air. "Why was he here?" she asked without preamble. 

Mary Margaret snickered, "Hello to you, too." 

"Sorry," Emma apologized. "How are you?  And why was he here?" 

Her friend waved her hand toward her desk where a pile of keys lay. "Would you believe my car keys?" 

Emma raised a brow, "Really?" 

"Really.  Now tell me what has you so rattled." 

Unsure where to start, Emma started with the early morning collision and ended with her discovery of how she had been wrong, jumping to some conclusions that she shouldn't have. "He wasn't generalizing for all children raised in the system," Emma shared excitedly, "I think he was saying that the attachment theory would suggest that with this particular case, the person had an inability to regulate in infancy due to abandonment and a broken parental bond, leading to social deviance as a child which carried through to adulthood." She grimaced, "I can appreciate this and probably," she sighed, "shouldn't have been so angry." 

When Mary Margaret didn't say anything, Emma leaned on the desk. "What do I do?" 

"Apologize," her friend said softly. 

Emma took a deep breath, "I was afraid you were going to say that." 

On the way back to the Flipse Building Emma kept thinking about the best way to apologize but nothing felt right.  She wondered if Clark had been able to sort things out between himself and his co-worker and if so, perhaps he would have some words of wisdom. 

~~~CS~~~ 

Since leaving Mary Margaret's office, Killian had been trying to figure out what it was that had brought Emma Swan rushing into the office unannounced.  Had she found his article?  Had she read the article? And if she had, what did she think?   

But why did he care?  He was only going to be in town for a couple of months, unless he interviewed for and was offered the permanent position. So why did it matter what she thought of him professionally?  Still unsure of the answer, Killian exchanged his tweed and wingtips for running shorts and shoes and hit the beach.  After five miles he still couldn't come up with an answer and pushed for another couple before cooling down and making his way back to the apartment.

He stripped and stepped under the shower spray, thinking over the answer that he had settled on while running and that was that Emma Swan was an enigma.   He heard stories of what a good instructor she was, how the students and faculty all enjoyed working with her, and yet the Emma Swan he saw was prickly...distant. She challenged him intellectually, whereas Buttercup stimulated him with her curiosity, her wit and her insight. If he could somehow combine the two, he would have found his perfect woman. 

Stepping from the shower, Killian dried and wrapped a towel around his waist just as a notification from Buttercup appeared. He quickly slipped into sleep pants and opened the message. It read: 

Dear Clark, 

Were you able to mend the rift between yourself and your co-worker?  I find that now I am in need of some advice from you.  I have recently realized that I jumped to an inaccurate assumption and have treated someone poorly because of it.  I am unsure how to repair the divide between us.  Any ideas? 

Buttercup 

Killian couldn't help but smile when he read her message because whether she had meant to or not, she had created a tiny crack in her wall.  Without much thought behind his answer, he sent a response. 

Buttercup, 

If you are wrong, apologize. 

Clark 

He was surprised when he didn't have to wait long before she answered back. 

Clark, 

I was afraid you would say that.  Saying I'm sorry is difficult.  No magic pill?   

Buttercup 

He chuckled at her response and answered. 

Dear Buttercup, 

No magic pill.  Sorry. 

Clark 

But she didn't let him have the last word. 

Clark, 

No key to his stomach?  No special Hallmark card or movie?   

Buttercup 

He got it, he really did, for saying you are wrong was difficult, but he had faith in her.  Which was interesting since they had never met. Wanting to learn more about her, he just started sending silly questions, as did she, until a glance at the clock told him they had been 'talking' for four hours.  His eyes barely able to stay open, Killian sent her one last question and when she didn't answer immediately, he allowed his eyes to close and drifted off to sleep. 

~~~CS~~~ 

It had been over a week since Emma fell asleep while 'talking' to Clark, which meant it had been a week since she realized she was wrong about Killian and needed to apologize.  However, saying she was sorry was not one of her strong suits and while she had tried...kind of...she was still working up to it. 

She decided that starting with a peace offering and then apologizing might make things a little easier and after some subtle questioning had stopped by Starbucks to procure his favorite coffee. However, once she arrived at the University and located him, she had been upstaged by none other than Tina Bell, the college's barracuda.  Tina had a reputation for flitting through men as quickly as a fairy flits through a flower field and by all appearances she had set her sights on Professor Jones. 

After taking a few days to regroup and come up with another idea, Emma planned to steal a piece of his mail from the faculty mailboxes and drop it by his office claiming it had accidentally gotten mixed up with hers.  Frustratingly, it seemed that someone else had the same idea because every time she checked the boxes, his was always empty.  It wasn't until she happened to walk by his office one afternoon to overhear someone say, "Killian, here's your mail.  It must have been left in my box by mistake," that she realized the culprit was Neal.  She didn't think Killian played for the same team as Neal, but she guessed she could be wrong. 

As February morphed into March and Emma still hadn't said she was sorry, she started thinking that if she didn't kick her own ass, her friends might very well do it for her.  Mary Margaret sent reminder texts, Clark had started asking in his messages and even her kitten had gotten in on the action.  Ginger had discovered the copy of the article that Killian wrote and scattered it all over the house, almost as if leaving reminders for her master. 

Making up her mind that this was the day, Emma found out which room he was teaching in and planned to stop by on her way to her own class.  Sadly, as had been her luck, once he was finished teaching, the podium was swarmed by a gaggle of girls and Emma was left out, yet again.   

Tired of being one step behind, she finished teaching her class, packed up for the day and barely made it to the Metrorail for her trip home. But once she arrived home, she had too much nervous energy to sit still, finally changing into running gear and hitting the streets. Allowing her feet to lead the way, she quickly realized that they were leading her directly to the beach and its hard-packed sand.   

Emma wasn't sure how far she ran, nor was she sure how long she ran, but she found a set of footprints in the sand and followed them blindly.  In her head she created an image of the person she was following, thinking they too might be trying to outrun something...or someone.  Her butterflies inside settling down, she slowed to a walk, allowing the gentle breezes to dry the sweat and calm her senses.  The mysterious steps faded as they rounded an outcrop of rocks and as she scooted around, the owner of the prints came into view. 

He had one leg resting on the shelf of a rock, his torso bent forward as he stretched his hamstrings.  She couldn't see his face, but he had a five-o'clock shadow, and his dark head was moving to music only he could hear.  She had just decided to turn the other way when he dropped his leg and looked her direction.  Emma's eyes traveled from his feet covered in a bright pair of Nike's, up bare legs, baggy shorts, a bare, slightly furred chest into the blue eyes of the man she had been simultaneously looking for yet running from for the past month. 

"Killian!" His first name burst forth before she could stop it. "Doctor Jones," she quickly amended, trying to keep her eyes glued to his instead of oogling his barely clad body. 

Killian took a step closer, his eyes widening with surprise as he removed an earbud. "Em...uh...Doctor Swan," he hesitated before dropping his gaze to the sand. 

Realizing that he might be feeling self-conscious, Emma cleared her throat, "Emma, please," she managed softly. 

He lifted his eyes and gave her a shy, but very endearing smile, and repeated, "Emma," quietly, almost as if he were trying it to see how it felt on his tongue. "And you can call me Killian." His response was just as soft as hers had been. 

Emma closed her eyes, but the vision of his chest, jaw covered with burnished whiskers and blue, blue eyes without glasses were burned in her brain, refusing to leave.  Do it, she told herself, opening her eyes once again to find his gaze locked on her.  "I'm glad I ran into you." His arched brow asked a question without his lips ever uttering a sound. "No, really," she rolled her eyes, "I wanted to tell you I was sorry.  I've behaved like an ass." 

He didn't say anything for the longest time, and afraid that perhaps she had waited too long, Emma almost turned to leave, but something kept her feet planted. "Apology accepted.  Care to walk?" 

They walked around the rocks, heading back up the beach and while not the comfort of an old friend like she felt when messaging Clark, their talk was, at least friendly.  She found that when she asked him questions about his professional life, he appeared more comfortable and seemed to stutter less, which gave her a new appreciation for him.  She hadn't really wanted to like him, but darn it, she did, and that was almost disconcerting. 

When they eventually parted ways and Emma arrived home, she couldn't get their encounter out of her mind, and for the first time she found herself wishing that Clark was close.  But she hadn't even told him where she lived...nor had she shared her real name.  The dilemma of what to do carried her into the shower. 

~~~CS~~~ 

The week after seeing Emma on the beach was a break for the University, and while he thought about flying home to see Liam, Elsa and Piper, in the end, he decided against it.  He divided his days between research for the book he was hoping to write and allowing August to teach him how to windsurf. Each evening he ran along the beach and while Emma Swan didn't cross his path, it didn't mean she didn't cross his mind.  He found himself thinking of her periodically, especially when he was in the middle of his research.  That she might be an interesting co-author had crossed his mind a time or two, so much so that he had almost mentioned it to Buttercup and asked her opinion.  But aware that he hadn't shared his real name and profession, kept him quiet...for the time being anyway. 

The problem was that the closer he felt to her, the more difficult it became to keep quiet...but something held him back. It was as if he were waiting on some sign and once he had gotten that sign, then...and only then would he divulge information that would lead to her knowing his real name.  What that sign was, he couldn't say...but when it happened, he would know. 

The last day of the break, a Sunday, David and Mary Margaret were hosting a brunch for the faculty of the College of Arts & Sciences, and if any faculty members were in town, they were expected to be there.  Killian arrived late and snuck in, hoping not to call attention to himself as he circled the room keeping his eyes open for... 

"Looking for me?" A whispered voice asked in his right ear as he felt an arm circling his waist. 

Could that be? he wondered turning to his right, only to be surprised by Neal's whiskered jaw leaning close to his shoulder. "Bloody hell, Cassidy!" Killian bellowed, jumping back quickly. "What are you doing?" 

"Well, I thought," Neal started before being pushed aside by the college snake. 

"Get your hands off him!" Tina Bell ordered Neal, shoving him out of the way. 

Killian noticed people staring, which was the exact opposite of what he had been looking for.  Slowly, he took a step back, trying to keep out of the reach of the groping hands. "Wai...wai…uh…just a minute here. There...there seems to be a...a...a big misunderstanding." His collar suddenly started feeling tighter and he swiped his finger around inside it in a desperate attempt to get it to loosen, all the while looking across the room for someone to rescue him. "Hold on, here," he tried again, taking another step backward.  "There...there seems to be, uh...a misunderstanding." He took one more step and hit a table, causing the plant sitting on it to wobble. 

Simultaneously, a hand reached out, stopping it from tumbling to the floor and another hand settled at his waist.  He knew before he turned that his savior was Emma Swan, but where had she come from?" 

"There you are," she hesitated just long enough to get the attention of both of his suitors, "Killian.  I've been looking for you." 

Emma positioned herself close against his side, her nearness causing his heart to speed up and sweat beads to appear on his upper lip.  Unsure what he was supposed to say, Killian looked down into her green eyes shining with laughter.  He swallowed his unease and nodded his head, "Aye, that's uh...that's right."   

He swallowed again when Emma linked her arm with his, and with an, "Excuse us," pulled him away from the situation. 

Once they were well out of Neal and Tina's hearing, Killian thanked Emma, and as they were walking by the buffet table offered to buy her a drink.  She rolled her eyes at his remark. "Sure, but I can get it.  Want something?" 

He sent her a little smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "What...ever, uh...you're having is fine.  I'll just be over…" he waved in the direction of several chairs, and when she nodded he moved away and sat down. 

Killian watched her move around the table with ease, curious as to what she was making to drink, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone sit down next to him.  His breathing stopped until he heard, David's low laugh, "Emma making you one of her creations?" 

He sent his companion a quick grin and shrugged, "I'm not sure.  Should I be worried?" 

"Oh, just wait," David intoned. "Our Emma has a sweet tooth." 

"Watch it, David," Emma laughed, "I heard that." She handed Killian a cup piled high with whipped cream that was covered with brown sprinkles. "Drink up.  I've got to go hear more about the sunsets in Key West." With a little wave, she faded into the crowd. 

Killian looked at the whipped topping melting in his cup and lifted it to see if a whiff of the brown specks would give him some indication of what he was drinking. "Cinnamon?" For some reason that seemed familiar but he didn't know why.  Many people drank hot chocolate, but he hadn't heard of many drinking it with whipped cream and cinnamon, except...and then it came to him. "Buttercup," he whispered. 

"Buttercup?" David repeated, "No, it's cinnamon." 

Killian shook his head to clear his thoughts because what was rolling around inside his head made very little sense.  He had just swallowed his second drink of the sugary concoction when he realized what David had said, and asked curiously, "Emma always makes the chocolate with whipping cream and cinnamon?" 

David laughed, "Always.  Why?" 

"No, no reason." He couldn't get beyond the fact that he had already been wishing that Emma and Buttercup were the same person, as each stimulated him in different ways and now...now if every time he was involved in a conversation with Buttercup, he saw Emma in his mind...how should he handle it?  Needing to move to a safer topic, Killian asked David about his break. 

"Oh, I took Mary Margaret to Key West." He went on to sing the praises of the little town that sat on the very tip of the Florida Keys.  "Have you had a chance to drive down since you've been here?" 

Killian barely had time to say no before David continued with the conversation, claiming the Key West sunsets were not to be beat and that if the opportunity arose, it was a place he recommended.   

It wasn't long before Killian noticed people starting to leave, and as soon as he was able he too made his excuses.  All the way home, he kept replaying conversations that he'd had with Buttercup over the past two months and combining those with what he knew about Emma.  Was it even possible that they were one and the same?   Or was it something that he just desired?  And if his magical match wasn't ready to let him knock down all those walls, then what could he do without losing her...or possibly both of them? After all, he was only Clark Kent. 

Later that night a notification arrived that he had a new message from Buttercup. Killian opened the app and read, 

Dear Clark, 

This may sound odd, but just out of curiosity, Clark Kent has several nervous habits that Superman doesn't share.  Do you have any nervous habits you're willing to share with your magical match? 

Yours, 

Buttercup 

~~~CS~~~ 

Emma wasn't sure what possessed her to ask the question, but once she hit send, she couldn't wait for the answer.  When Clark didn't respond right away, she couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to the party and Killian's nervous habits. Besides turning really red, he was prone to rub his hand on his neck. Sometimes along the back and at other times along the front, and his speech patterns changed.  They became more hesitant, even slightly dysfluent. 

The dysfluency itself was interesting to Emma as it seemed to change depending on the environment.  She had watched him arrive and he appeared fine, however once Neal and Tina had surrounded him, making him uncomfortable, he had really stuttered and then the stuttering had lessened as they moved away.  But when she had seen him at the beach, once the initial awkwardness was over, his speaking pattern was different.  Then his speech had been fluent...smoother, even if his sentences were not as long and eloquent as she had expected...or as long and eloquent as Clark's were, which was a curious comparison to make.  But the cadence of his speech and the way his tongue wrapped around those British vowels did something to her that she hadn't expected.  In fact, there were times when she found herself hearing Killian's voice in her head as she read some of the messages from Clark.  How messed up was that?  There would come a time when a decision would have to be made, she could feel it.  The question was...how much time did she have? 

Knowing she had to teach the next day, Emma tried to go to sleep early but her mind wouldn't stop enough to allow for a deep sleep. It took hours of tossing and turning before she finally fell into such a shallow sleep that she was aware of every little creak in the house and every move made by Ginger, thanks to the bell on her collar.  Her dreams had Killian and Clark morphing into the same person, each saying words she would expect from the other.  She reached a point where she wasn't sure which man she was running to...or running from. 

When the alarm went off, she wanted nothing more than to bury her head under the blankets, but with an early class spurring her on, she forced her feet to move.  Knowing she was going to need an extra shot of caffeine, Emma quickly showered, dressed and was out the door and in line at Starbucks before even realizing she hadn't even touched her phone.  When she saw the notification, signaling a message from Clark, a little jolt traveled through her system, but wanting to savor the feeling she dealt with the non-important stuff first.  Her thumb hovered over the app when she heard the barista call, "Swan," and the moment was lost.   

A congested US-1 slowed her down and so it wasn't until several hours later that Emma dropped down into her office chair and opened the app to see what awaited her. 

Dear Buttercup, 

Just like Clark Kent, I find myself unsure at times and when that occurs, besides turning red, I tend to tug on my right ear. I've been trying to stop, but perhaps it’s a Superman transformation I've yet to conquer. 

Yours, 

Clark  

"He tugs on his ear," Emma murmured. "Why does that sound so familiar?"  Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything earlier, but grabbing something from the vending machines didn't sound good, so... 

E: Have time to meet me at the student center? 

Thankfully she didn't have to wait long for an answer, 

MM: Sounds good.  Usual spot in 20? 

E: Perfect.  See you then. 

There were several "busy" activities that she could have started, but Emma found that she didn't have the drive to begin any of them.  Leaving her office behind, she escaped the confines of the building and started the walk across campus.  The weather was still perfect, and with the sun shining down and the fragrant flowers around, Emma found herself relaxing and reflecting over the past few months. Much had changed since last November when she had told Mary Margaret that she was not interested in dating. 

November 2017 Thanksgiving 

Emma dried the last glass, set it in the cabinet and shut the door. "Done," she said with a smile. She hung up the towel she had been using and followed Mary Margaret into the family room.   

They settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace, both lost in their own thoughts for a few moments. "Thanks for helping clean the kitchen," her friend told her quietly.  "When Robert is ready to go home, he means right then." 

Emma laughed at the memory of the argument between the men and how in the end David had given in and driven them home. "That was sweet of David to drive them home." 

"An only child," Mary Margaret laughed and the changed the subject. "Ready to let me in on why you arrived alone?" 

Emma's head dropped onto the back of the sofa. "I was wondering when you would ask, but," she lifted her head, "it's not a big deal, really.  When Mary Margaret's only response was a lift of her brow, Emma laughed and shook her head. "There was just something missing between us and..." She bit her lip, unsure how much more to say.   

"Oh Emma," the brunette sighed, "he wanted more, didn't he?" 

Emma nodded her head slowly. "I'm not sure why I have such a hard time picking men," she finished disgustedly, and gave her friend a tiny smile. "Know any men as special as your husband?" 

She watched several expressions cross her friend's face and thought to herself, ‘I'm going to wish I wouldn't have said anything,’ before her friend even opened her mouth. "Well, it's interesting that you ask," Mary Margaret started, "it just so happens..." 

"Stop." Emma held up her hand.  "I was just kidding.  You know I don't do 'fix-ups.'" 

"But Emma, what if he's your true love?" 

"Ha!" burst out before she could stop it. "Let's change the subject, shall we?" 

March 2018 

And if I had taken her up on the offer to introduce me to someone, would I have a third man in my life?  Or would I have none? "Feast or famine," she mumbled as she entered the noisy environment of the student center and sat down at their usual table. 

While she waited, Emma's thoughts once again drifted back over conversations that she'd had with Clark and how easy it was to share most things with him. Most things that is...except her name, what she did for a living and...where she lived. 

"What's wrong?" Mary Margaret asked before she had even settled in a chair. 

Emma frowned at her. "How do you know anything is wrong?" 

"Because you're chewing on your bottom lip.  Now spill." 

Emma spent the next hour trying to explain the confusion she was feeling inside and how her feelings for Clark and Killian were morphing together.  She found it freeing, but even talking about it still didn't give her clarification as to what she should do. "You've been quiet," she commented as she ran out of things to say. 

"Have you thought about trying to meet Clark?" Mary Margaret asked her quietly. 

"Yes," Emma nodded, "but...but I like what we have, even if it's not completely open.  If we meet I might find out--" 

"---that you might be wrong about him," Mary Margaret interrupted.  Emma sighed, but didn't say anything, only nodded her head.  "Emma," her friend reached out with a reassuring touch on her hand, "don't give up.   Love is worth it." 

All the way back to the Flipse Building, Emma thought about what Mary Margaret had said and wondered if she was brave enough to take a chance. Was her true love at the bottom of the hill, just like Buttercup's Westley? It was a question that certainly deserved a lot of thought but since she had a class of freshmen to lecture for the next ninety minutes, she would have to set it aside to ponder later.   

As she stood in front of her class, lecturing about habits, Emma's mind kept wandering to her situation, but using every ounce of skill she had learned over the past few years, she made it through her PowerPoint without having to repeat herself too many times.  She had just started a video to accompany her lecture when she looked up, meeting the blue eyes of Killian Jones.   

The first thing she noticed was that he didn't have his glasses on and his gaze was so intense that she had to hold onto the table to keep from falling.  He looked different, but beyond the absence of his eyewear, she couldn't put her finger on why she thought that. Almost like when Clark Kent becomes Superman flitted through her mind before she pushed it aside as a preposterous idea. 

Emma couldn't look away, her gaze mesmerized by his and then...he smiled.  A smile so endearing that if she hadn't been holding onto the table, her legs would have given out.  Without conscious thought, Emma found herself smiling back, and then it happened, and as if in slow motion the room stood still. 

 Killian's face turned red and he reached up and...tugged on his ear. 

Emma blinked rapidly several times, thinking surely, she didn't just see that.  But he did it again. 

He reached up, and once again tugged on his ear. 

Emma's mouth dropped open, and just as she started to walk over to him, the video came to its conclusion and with a little wave Killian disappeared.  She didn't know where the words came from, but somehow she closed out the class and made it back to her office repeating, "I am so screwed," over and over again. 

Almost in a trance, Emma packed up and drove home, arriving to discover that Ginger had been busy, but she hadn't destroyed anything important. The decision time that she had been fretting about for a while had arrived. The question of what to do ran around inside her head, almost filling up too much space to allow her to function.  She had just about decided to put it off for another day when her phone buzzed with a new notification from Clark.  With much curiosity and a little trepidation, Emma opened the app.

Tell me dear Buttercup, are buttercups your favorite posies? 

Yours,

Clark 

~~~CS~~~ 

Killian leaned against the open patio doors, listening to the waves roll in several floors below. Usually the rhythmic pulse served to soothe him, but tonight his thoughts were in too much disarray and he'd resorted to a generous dollop of rum.  As the amber drink burned a path from his mouth to his stomach, he set the glass aside and leaned on the railing staring out at the bay, hoping for some clarity. 

With each ebb and flow of the water, the shore changed, reminding him of his own metamorphosis over the last few months. It hadn't been something that he had noticed as it was taking place, for then, he had been attempting to make some sense of what he was feeling.  His emotions were wide and varied and they included those for his Buttercup, as well as many for Emma Swan and suddenly, the two women had merged into one...at least in his mind.  But after speaking with Liam, there had been an epiphany, of sorts, and he had realized that the man he looked at in the mirror every morning had indeed changed. 

He had arrived home from the party and, with his thoughts mired in confusion, he had needed someone to help him sort through them and reached out to his family.  Piper had answered the phone and after listening to her stories about school, she had passed him on to Elsa.  It hadn't taken long before Elsa had asked if she could help, and he thought about asking her for her opinion, but then Liam's voice came over the phone and he hadn't been able to stop the flow of words. 

It had felt good to be able to articulate what was in his mind and what was in his heart.  And once the words were said, then he had been forced to examine the meaning behind them. Liam had asked a few questions, but as the questions became fewer and his answers shorter, Killian had started to wonder what was going through Liam's head. The end of the conversation was really what stood out in his mind. 

"Have you ever fought for a woman, Killian?" Liam had asked him quietly. 

"No." He had never wanted to fight for anyone. 

Liam continued, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.  So, Little Brother, if you want this woman, you need to fight for her." 

Once he had hung up the phone, he found himself thinking about Clark Kent's transformation to Superman.  It all started when he removed his glasses.  He stood taller, more confident, his voice was lower pitched...and what he wanted, he went after.   

Killian found himself in the bathroom, staring at the man in the mirror, and just like Superman, he pulled the tortoiseshell glasses from his face.  Different, yet the same, he thought, wanting to do more.  With a tug of the knot, his tie ended up on the floor and the top few buttons of his shirt came undone and his stance changed...looser...cockier. His hair...he mussed, letting it fall over his forehead. And the new Killian Jones stared back at him.  This man, not the same man that looked back at him each day, but a man on a mission.  A man willing to fight for the woman he wanted. 

And that man made his first appearance at the University earlier today.  That man had breezed through his classes and, needing to see Emma, had stopped by the room where she was lecturing.  Exchanging looks with her had been intense, and he'd needed to hold on to the door facing to keep from pushing his newfound confidence farther...and then...she smiled. His heart raced, but the video's ending had sent him running home. 

Once home, after a run on the beach, he set out to see how close he could get to his Buttercup and sent her a message.  But now, hours later and she hadn't responded. Had he gotten too close?  And if so, was she running? 

Unsure what his next step should be, Killian readied for bed and, keeping his phone close, lay down, folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.  His thoughts fell back on the encounter with Emma and how he felt when she smiled at him, his heart had... 

His phone sounding with the theme music to Princess Bride interrupted his thoughts before they could delve any further into his feelings.  Killian reached for the phone, quickly opening the app.  Buttercup's message was short and either she was being a bit cheeky...or she was trying to put some distance between them.  "We'll see about that," he muttered as he reread her message. 

Dear Clark, 

Buttercups are not my favorite posey. 

Yours,

Buttercup 

Killian's next message was short...but a little more personal. 

Dear Buttercup, 

How about Blue Bonnets?  Are they your favorites?  Blue like your Westley's eyes. 

Yours,

Clark 

Even though it was getting late, he didn't have to wait long for her answer. 

Dear Clark, 

I do like blue, but Blue Bonnets aren't my favorite. 

Yours,

Buttercup 

Killian's smile was decidedly wicked as he answered her. 

You like blue?  Blue like the sky or blue like the sea? 

He couldn't put the phone down, he was so anxious to hear what she had to say. 

Why, blue like the sea, of course.  Oh, a bonus for you. My favorite flowers are Tiger Lilies. 

Killian had his answer and assumed she was turning in for the night.  He shut the phone off and as fatigue pulled him down into sleep, he continued to formulate his plan as to how far he could push her before her walls came tumbling down and he was able to win Buttercup’s heart.   

Over the course of the next few weeks, Killian put his plan into action.  His messages to his Magical Match included questions that became increasingly more personal, pushing her down that hill a little at a time.  Initially, she met his new questioning technique with hesitation and challenged his with questions of her own.  But then, it was as if a door had opened and she was walking through as she met each of his questions with ones of her own.   

By telling her he had grown up in London, he learned she was born in Boston. 

By telling her his parents had been killed when he was a teenager, he had learned she had been raised in the foster system. And that news sent his heart racing, for Emma Swan had also been raised in the foster system.   

By telling her his magical match gift had been bestowed on him by his brother, his wife and their daughter, he had learned she had received it from married friends, who were colleagues.  Could those have been David and Mary Margaret? 

Mid-April was upon them and Killian wanted...no...needed to meet Buttercup, but he had one more question for her.  It was quick. 

Dear Buttercup,

If you could take a trip to see the sunset, where would the trip lead you? 

Yours,

Clark 

Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long as her response popped up right away. 

Dear Clark, 

I hear the sunsets in Key West, Florida are like no other. 

Yours,

Buttercup 

When Killian read her answer, he couldn't believe the amount of relief he was feeling and he was being hit with it from several directions.  Creating the perfect letter took some time but once it was sent, he was confident he had made the right decision. 

The following week, he realized he needed a little advice and stopped by David's office.  David's secretary smiled. "Doctor Jones, how can I help you?" 

"Good morning, Mrs. Lucas." He sent her what he hoped was an endearing smile. "Is David in?" 

Once inside David's inner sanctum, Killian got right to the point, "David, I thought I'd check out those sunsets in Key West next weekend. Would you happen to have a hotel recommendation?  And would you mind taking me to the airport? 

~~~CS~~~

As soon as Killian had left the office, David couldn't stop smiling.  He picked up his phone to share the news. "Mrs. Lucas," he said to his secretary, "please tell Ruby thanks again for help with that matter." 

"I'll do that, Doctor Nolan," she answered. "Is there anything else before I leave for the day?" 

"Nothing, thanks."  As soon as she was gone, David snuck outside to where a copse would hide him, should anyone come around.  He needed to call Liam and fill him in on the news.  As he waited for the phone to ring, he saw Killian leaving the building, and stepped back a little more into the shadows.   

"David, good to hear from you," Liam's voice came over the line.  "How are things?" 

~~~CS~~~ 

Dear Buttercup, 

Are you ready to meet me at the bottom of the hill? If so, I'll be waiting at the Southernmost Point in Key West on April 21 at 7:00p.m.  If all goes well, the sunset will signify a new beginning.  I'll leave my cape at home and be holding four Tiger Lilies, one for every month we've been talking.   

              ~Clark 

Emma read through the message one more time and the excitement that she had felt the first time was just as real...the tenth...twentieth, but who's counting time.  It had taken her a lot of runs on the beach and talks with her friend, but Emma had made the decision to continue down the hill.  She hadn't rolled down, like they had in the movie, but taken sure and steady steps, allowing him to get closer to her than anyone had in...forever. And after his last message, she had decided to drive to Key West...and meet him.   

Ginger mewed and followed her to the door, and seeing her little forlorn, furry face almost stopped her...but, "You'll be in good hands, my friend." She picked up the kitten and rubbed her face against the soft fur.  "Mary Margaret is going to take care of you. You like her, right?" 

The kitten didn't look convinced but followed her mistress from room to room as Emma made sure she had everything and then called her friend.   

"Hello?" 

"I'm getting ready to leave.  You won't forget to take care of Ginger, right?" 

"Go, Emma," Mary Margaret assured her, "Ginger and I will be fine.  Good luck." 

"Thanks...for everything." While Emma didn't know for sure, she had a feeling she was thanking her friend for a lot more than just watching her pet.   

On a good day, the drive along the scenic US-1 was almost four hours from her home in Coconut Grove, but add in a wreck and a little road construction and she didn't pull into the hotel until five hours later.  Once she checked into her room, she had too much nervous energy to just sit around and decided to take the opportunity to visit the Hemingway House. Once there she was free to wander about the eccentric writer's home, admiring not only the residence, but the many cats that called the house their home.   

After leaving the Hemingway House, Emma still had a few hours to waste and spent time walking in and out of the shops on Duval Street.  Her stomach was so tied up in knots that she couldn't even think about food and she was too nervous to people watch, and so an hour early, she started in the direction of the concrete buoy that proudly proclaimed it to be the Southernmost Point in Key West, Florida. 

When she arrived within eyesight of the buoy, Emma stopped and leaned against a store, shielding herself from others, but allowing her to see the comings and goings of the tourists.  Her eyes were constantly moving over the crowd, searching for the man that she hoped was both her magical match, i.e., Clark Kent, as well as her Superman. Taking a chance on even the possibility of love was not something that Emma Swan had ever done until she had become his Buttercup. Now...she was here...and...she was ready. 

She saw him coming from the opposite side of the street, his walk much more Superman these days than Clark Kent.  He looked good as Superman, she thought. Contacts instead of glasses, jeans instead of dress pants, a vest and a shirt unbuttoned a few buttons instead of a tie, all topped by black leather instead of a tweed jacket. And not a fedora in sight, she noticed as he turned to look in a store window.  She assumed he was window shopping until he straightened his jacket and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it artfully mussed. He turned back toward the corner and his lopsided grin caused her heart to do a little flip.  That they had come so far was a miracle, making her think they were technically a miracle match instead of a magical one. 

Just before he reached the corner, his steps hesitated and he stopped, his confidence flagging.  His shoulders sagged, and his body relaxed and just like that, Clark was back.  He dropped his head studying the bright orange flowers he was holding, four beautiful Tiger Lilies as he had promised and then...with a swipe of his finger across one delicate petal, his shoulders drew back and his head lifted.  Superman had once again returned and Emma's heart melted a little more. 

He looked toward the concrete buoy and Emma watched him take a breath and his lopsided smile once again returned.  She saw him scan the crowds, looking for her, she knew, before settling off to one side.  His Adam's apple bobbed and seeing that even when he was Superman he was nervous, Emma stepped away from the wall and started her walk to where he was waiting. 

~~~CS~~~ 

Killian saw her coming and she was so beautiful all the words that he had planned to say disappeared from his brain. His eyes trailed up her slim legs encased in tight jeans, to her soft sweater covered by the ever-present leather jacket.  Her hair blowing around her face and the sun shining on her gave her a glow, and those combined with her smile woke his heart and made it sing. 

She stopped in front of him, giving him a smile that he hadn't been aware he was longing for. "I hoped it was you." Her voice was husky and a little breathless and the way she was biting her lip was endearing to see. 

"Really?" He felt his smile grow, "I hoped it was you, too." He took a half step closer. "When did you suspect?" 

Emma tilted her face up to the sun, as if working to bring back a memory that was hiding. "Clark and Killian had been merging in my head for several weeks, but then when you were standing in the doorway of my class--" 

"And tugged on my ear?" he finished. 

She nodded. "Yes. And then you disappeared." Her voice faded as she studied him intently. 

His face felt stiff and too warm, as if he had been smiling too much or was embarrassed...or both. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "I wanted to stay but it felt like it was..." and then he stopped because he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. 

Emma took another step closer. "Too much?" she asked hesitantly. 

This time it was his turn to nod. "Something like that." 

"How long do you plan to stay?" Emma's shining green eyes continued to stare into his as if she were cataloging his features and digging into the deepest recesses of his mind. 

She had asked him a question, but he had been so lost in her green-eyed gaze that it took him a while to process what she had said.  "In Key West...or in Florida? 

Emma rolled her eyes and lightly giggled, relieving some of the nervous tension he still was holding. "Florida, silly." 

"Well," Killian handed her one of the bright Tiger Lilies, "that depends on a few things." He handed her another, each word carefully chosen. 

"Thank you," she whispered softly, her breath blowing across the petals causing them to undulate slightly.  His eyes rested on her lips before he forcibly brought them back to hers.  She pulled the flowers down to clasp them tightly against her chest as she stared up at him, almost as if something held her captivated. Her pink tongue peeked out to slowly circle her lips and for the first time, Killian felt that there was a very real chance he would get to taste that mouth. Something he had longed to do but never really thought possible. "What things?" 

Her words broke through his hazy thoughts. "A job," he handed her the third flower, "for one. After all, my position is only until the end of the semester." 

Emma frowned up and him and took a step back. "Wait.  I thought you were applying for Cora Mills' position." 

Killian felt his brow raise in question, thinking that the fact that she was aware he had been offered the opportunity to apply for the position was an interesting piece of information.  "I've been told about the position but haven't decided if I should apply or not." He took a step forward closing the distance that she had just added. 

"What...what will help you determine whether or not to apply?" she asked him breathlessly. 

A tiny smile played along her lips, their twitching pulling his eyes to them time and again. "I think you know." He handed her the last flower, his eyes open for her to read whatever was in them that she wanted to see.   

~~~CS~~~ 

His blue eyes had been hypnotizing her since she had stopped in front of him and the more she stared, the more rubbery her legs became.  Hearing him talk and listening to the melodic tone to his voice, the more he pulled her in...bringing her closer to him...making her want to step into him, letting him wrap her in his arms.  But patience and allowing things to develop between them naturally had worked so far, which was why she was working so hard to refrain from staring at his lips. 

Hearing him remind her of the temporariness of his position and then telling her he hadn't applied for the other one sent a shock of fear zipping down Emma's spine.  That wasn't like her, yet as he uttered the words, "I think you know," she had to look down to make sure that her legs weren't slowly melting into the very ground beneath her feet.  Surely, he couldn't mean her, could he? 

But then she looked...really looked in his eyes and what she saw was so raw...so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, she couldn't keep from stepping closer. The toes of her boots touched his and her hands rested against the soft leather of his jacket. "Killian?" There was so much she wanted to say but how to verbalize exactly what she was feeling was a problem, because as she had said earlier to him...it just felt so big. 

He took another step and cupped her elbows, pulling her closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. "Yes, love?" 

Emma wasn't sure if the word was an endearment or just something that he used when speaking to others, but it sent awareness along her skin. "Where's home?" 

He leaned his head closer and whispered, "I have a flat in Cambridge, which is the University I am on sabbatical from, and my family lives outside of London, why?" 

She shook her head, turning questioning eyes to his. "You would be willing to give up your...family for me?" 

"Aye." His breath wafted across her mouth, making her want to lean forward...just an inch closer, to finally seal their lips. "Buttercup," he tugged her into his body, locking his arms around her, "can I be your Westley?  Can I be your happy ending?" 

The words were barely out of his mouth before Emma took the leap and locked her mouth to his.  He tasted like heaven and his arms...those felt like home. Their lips parted briefly, just long enough for her to mutter, "Welcome home, Killian." 

The setting sun touched the ocean, painting the world around them with a golden glow.  Killian swung Emma around dipping her in his arms. “Is this the Happy Ending you envisioned for Buttercup, Swan?”   

She smiled, “It’s not a happy ending, Killian.  It’s a Happy Beginning.” He swung her back into his arms and captured her lips once again as the sun sank into the ocean and the night closed around them. 

~fin

 “Hmmm.” She hummed the affirmative and turned her cheek against the bare skin of his stomach. “I love you.”

Killian smiled softly, in awe with the ease of which she told him that now, and carded his fingers lightly through her hair, which was still slightly damp from her shower. “I love you too.” Emma turned her head further against him, pressing her lips to his skin and nipping at it lightly with her teeth.

He grunted in surprise, clenching his jaw to hide his grin and she giggled against him. Killian lowered himself slowly down to his knees behind the stool she’d perched herself on, pressing his lips to her neck, her shoulders, her spine, stubble scratching deliciously across her skin, as he went.

 He stopped just below her shoulder blades, where the back of her bra rested, deep wine coloured lace against milky pale skin. “This is new.” He nosed at the fabric, running his lips over her ribs as he did.

“Killian.” She laughed, a little breathlessly a little giddily, but she couldn’t help herself, there was a lot that was getting to her at the moment, things that she only now let herself indulge in, now that the threat of the Black Fairy and her imminent death were no longer a concern.

 She had her whole life ahead of her again, one that she was going to spend with her husband, her family, the fact that she could now call Killian her husband, excited her only slightly less than the fact that he’d now call her his wife.

 Then there were the little things, like the fact that she could call herself ‘Emma Jones’ or ‘Emma Swan-Jones’ she hadn’t quite decided.  She liked that Swan was a name she gave herself, and even now she liked her ten year old self’s reasoning behind it, but she also like the idea of having a name that was legally hers, hers and Killian’s.

 The whole engagement, non-engagement, portal jumping, re-engagement, top speed wedding planning business, hadn’t exactly given her much time to think about it, but either way she’d have to change her signature… the name on all her mail would start changing… and where as a year ago… hell maybe even six months ago, that would have scared the shit out of her, all she could feel right now was excitement.

 Then there was the fact that she also now seemed to be at a point her relationship where said husband had such intimate knowledge of her underwear selection that he knew and appreciated when she splurged on new stuff…  it was a stupid, insignificant thing, but she realised that she actually kinda liked it. “It is technically my wedding night, the panties match… figured I’d really go all out.” She whispered coyly in way of reply.

 She could feel his smirk and his hot breath against her skin. “I shall make sure to thoroughly enjoy tearing them off you later then.” He murmured, making her jump and gasp when the cold metal of his hook came into contact with her side as he slipped it beneath her dress.

 “Not a chance.” She hissed, biting her lip and waiting for the metal warm against her skin. “I don’t think I've ever spent this much on underwear in my life.” She’d bought some new stuff when they’d started getting intimate, something she’d never bothered with for one night stands… but this particular set was more than an Emma that wasn’t high on dress shopping ever would have spent on underwear.

 “Hmmm.” Killian hummed, a little dejectedly and Emma laughed, but the laugh died in her throat and heat flared deep in her abdomen as he kissed lower down her back, then lower still, tongue darting out against her skin… before pulling her zip up with his teeth. Emma groaned, cause God dammit, the black fairy hadn’t succeeded, but if he carried on like this, that mouth was going to be the end of her. He chuckled and kissed her neck before standing up. “There you go, Love.”

 She huffed out a breath “Why do I feel like we’re doing this whole wedding night thing in reverse.”

 He laughed quietly and murmured huskily against her lips. “Trust me, Darling, I’d much rather be undressing you.”

 Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as enthusiastically, pressing herself flush against his chest in an attempt to get closer, but the muscles in his shoulders were stiff and he winced when she hugged him a little too tight, so she loosened her hold and ran a hand up her chest. “Sore?”

 “Aye.” He huffed out. “Apparently I’m not as young as I used to be.”

She grinned mischievously. “What? You mean like two hundred?”

 “Ha ha.” He deadpanned, rolling his left shoulder back to try and ease the ache there.

 She brushed his shirt to the side and tried to ease her fingers beneath the straps of his brace and failing. They both winced, him in pain and her in sympathy, the skin around it was an angry shade of red and rubbed raw, ideally he should have taken it off, but she knew he wouldn’t, even around friends and family.

 “You’ve got this far too tight, babe.” She pulled on the worn leather strap that circled his shoulder, undoing the buckle and loosening it a couple of notches, before moving onto the one on his bicep. “Better?”

 “Better.” He smiled down at her tenderly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She ran her hands over his chest, and raked her nails through his chest hair as she did, before giving him a taste of his own medicine and pulling both sides of his shirt together to button it up

 He groaned in protest, turning his face into her neck, and she laughed, cradling the back of his head in her hand and rocking with him side to side.

 There was a flash of light, and both Emma and Killian turned to find Snow, camera in hand and pulled up to her face. She smiled guiltily at them, winding on the film in her camera, and pointing it back at them.  “Cuddle up you two. I need to catch up on wedding photos ”

 Emma rolled her eyes. “Mom.” She laughed, but gave in to the tug of Killian’s hand on her waist. He pulled her to his side, and wrapped his arm around her, posing for the photo with his lips pressed to her temple.

 One photo became two, and then a third and a forth, but Emma humoured her, smiling until her cheeks ached, all the while trying not to react as Killian ran a hand over her ass and squeezed.

 She gripped the offending hand in her own and pulled it back up to her waist, watching out of the corner of her eye as his lips turned up in a devilish smirk. “Jackass.” She muttered through her teeth, just loud enough for him to hear, and smiling as her mom took another photo.

 He chuckled, spinning her around and dipping her low the way he had at their wedding and she squealed, scrambling to grip the back of his neck, as he muffled the sound with his lips.

 Another flash, another photo, and Emma tucked her chin up and pulled her lips away, batting his chest playfully and pulling herself upright. “Alright.” She laughed. “That’s enough.” She felt giddy, almost drunk on happiness and relief.

 She was safe, and the final battle was won.

 She wasn’t naive enough to think life would be plain sailing from now on, this was Storybrooke, there was always going to be some drama or another. But right now she was feeling more optimistic than she ever had. This most recent alternate reality (Damn, she really needed to start labelling these things) had given her some clarity.

 Her life was so different than it was when Henry first brought her to Storybrooke, she could hardly remember a time when having family dinner with Snow White and Prince Charming, and kissing Captain Hook had sounded crazy… but it wasn’t just the fairy tales that had been beyond her imagination.

 The simple things, like having a family, a dad that made her breakfast and a mom that made up wedding binders. Her son, her little boy, who’d she’d resigned herself over a decade ago to never see again, coming over and playing video games on her couch and eating her Pop tarts.

 Her boyfriend… No, Husband, god was she ever gonna get used to that? Who supported and loved her, in a way she’d never even thought was possible. Her loveable dork, who still couldn’t figure out how to work the ‘picture box.’ Who took her on dates, held open doors for her and brought her flowers, just because.

 She’d never believed she’d have any of this. She’d lived her life so long, alone, walls up and never letting anyone close. She wasn’t sure how she’d thought her life would pan out, but being a mother, a daughter, a wife, had certainly never been a part of it.

“So I trust you’ll be home soon?” Killian asked, starting to bring his gardening tools into the shed. He made sure to lock the windows so they wouldn’t blow open if the wind was too strong before he locked the gardening shed. “Have your father pick up the next patrol with his truck? The bug doesn’t have all-wheel drive…”

“I’ll be home in a little bit. I’m just responding to a call about some downed trees from the last wind storm,” Emma said, and he could hear her rustling around in the forest. “Also, who told you the Bug doesn’t have all-wheel drive?” She sounded impressed and a feeling of pride blossomed in his chest.

“Doesn’t matter how I know,” he teased her, and the smile disappeared from his face just a little bit. “It’s not safe for you out there when the roads get too wet. I heard the Storybrooke sign still is recovering from your first adventure in the rain here…”

“Don’t worry about me, babe,” Emma assured him. “I’m gonna be just fine, and unless this tree is gonna get me wasted on its whiskey or you’re planning on putting a wolf in the middle of the road, I’m gonna be just fine and so is the sign. And I know that won’t stop you from worrying, but I promise you I wouldn’t—” Her next words were drowned out by a clap of thunder, and the skies opened up over Storybrooke.

Killian rushed into the house as the rain began to hit him. He heard Emma cursing on the other side, and he tried to suppress the anxiety that flared up in his gut. “Emma, love?” he asked, hanging his coat up on the coat hanger. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Just soaked to the bone. A little more warning next time, sailor.”

“Shall I draw you a warm bath as recompense, my love?” Killian asked her, already heading up the stairs just do that. He chuckled when she let out a delighted sigh at the notion. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased her.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk. Your hair isn’t dripping onto the Bug’s leather seats,” Emma shot back, but there wasn’t any bite behind it. Another clap of thunder and another muffled curse from Emma preceded the hum of the Bug’s ignition. “Good thing I got the windshield wipers changed,” she huffed.

“Aye,” he agreed, as he got to work setting up a bath for Emma. He paused when he heard her shiver. “Love?”

“I’m okay,” Emma answered. “Just cold. Even my coat is wet and I’m just waiting for the heating to kick in while I’m driving. I hate this weather, one minute you need to blast the AC and then it starts to rain and you need the heat like it’s the middle of winter.”

Killian hummed sympathetically and resolved to make her a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon to go with her bath before she got home. “Well you’ll be home in less than two shakes, and I promise you it’s plenty warm at home.”

“How’s that bath coming?” Emma asked hopefully, sniffling as her nose began to run.

“It will be here ready and waiting for you,” Killian promised. “All I want for you is your heart’s desire. You know that.”

“I know,” Emma murmured, and he could see the affection glimmering behind her eyes. It warmed him more than any bath ever could, but he knew his Swan loved her comforts. And he would never begrudge her that.

Especially since she herself had shown him the wonder of what two people could get up to in a bathtub.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, not wanting to hang up on the other, but not feeling like they needed to continue talking. It was something they had just gotten accustomed to after knowing each other for so long. He could hear the patter of rain on the bug’s windshield in the background while he began filling up the tub with water.

“Can you put some bubbles in?” Emma asked shyly after a few minutes. “Into the bath I mean…the ones from the purple bottle.”

“The one that smells like lavender?” Killian checked, already looking for it when Emma hummed her approval. “As you wish, my love.”

“Are you taking care of yourself too?” Emma pressed. “You’re dry and warm?”

“I will be shortly,” he promised her gently.

“Killian…” Emma warned.

“Please let me do this for you?” he offered. “And then I’ll look after myself.”

“You deserve to be taken care of too,” Emma said simply. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek closer to the phone. “And if you’re not taking proper care of yourself, I’m gonna take care of you as soon as I get home.”

God this woman.

“You do drive a hard bargain, lass. Just one of the many reasons I love you,” he murmured softly.

“I love you too,” Emma replied. “Don’t try to deflect me with your sweet talk though, mister. I expect to see a warm and dry pirate when I get home, got that?”

He decided to change into dryer, more comfortable clothes before going downstairs to make them dinner once her bath and cocoa were ready. He left a towel hanging on the coatrack by the front door, and the laundry basket just outside their bathroom.

The front door open and clothed, and he heard Emma’s muttered protestations about the weather before the echoes of her footsteps sounded up the stairs. He didn’t feel the need to greet her just yet.

Emma would come to him in her own time, as she always did.

Besides, he’d been married to her long enough to know not to get between her and a hot bubble bath.

The rain provided a soothing accompaniment to the gentle bubbling of the sauce in the pot. He hummed an old sea shanty to himself as he errantly stirred the pasta beside him.

It was nice, Killian reflected. To be in his home, making food for him and the woman he loved more than anything. To be in a space that was so quintessentially theirs together and separately. And quite frankly, both he and Emma had been lacking in nice for a good portion of their lives. To have it now made him thank his stars and thank Emma Swan.

Sorry, Emma Jones.

He felt a swell of affection for her that wasn’t so out of place. If he really counted, he probably went through this feeling at least seven times a day since the Final Battle.

And that was…nice.

Made infinitely nicer by his wife wrapping his arms around his waist, resting her cheek in between his shoulders. He could feel the damp press of her hair, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like the rain. No, her hair was warm and smelled of lavender.

“Hi,” she whispered, letting her eyes flutter shut. “Thanks for the bath and cocoa. They really hit the spot.”

“Anything for you,” Killian responded tenderly, still stirring the sauce. “There’s some time before dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?” He felt the nod against his back. “Well, far be it from me to keep you away from a meal, love.” She squeezed him a little bit tighter and snuggled in closer.

They stood like this for a few minutes—Killian working on dinner and Emma holding him from behind—until he finally asked with some amusement, “Just what are you doing back there, hmm?”

“I’m taking care of you,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“Am I warm and dry to your liking?” he asked, recalling her promise from their earlier conversation. She shook her head and nestled closer as if to rectify it. He didn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up within him, especially when he felt her smile against his skin. “You’re impossible,” he teased.

“And you love me for it,” she retorted happily.

“Aye,” he whispered. He turned the stove burners off and turned around to pull her against his chest. “May I have this dance, my love?”

Emma snapped her fingers to turn the radio on. “And now we’d like to play you a recording of ‘Moonlight Serenade’ by Glenn Miller and his orchestra…” the announcer crooned at them. As the clarinet began to play, and then the trumpet, Killian wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, while his hand came to hold hers.

Only the sounds of the rain and the orchestra seemed to matter as husband and wife stood in the middle of their kitchen, swaying with one another. Her head came to rest on his chest, just underneath his chin.   

“You okay, babe? You’re kind of quiet today,” Emma murmured, not looking up at him still. She didn’t need to for him to know that she was just taking care of him, just as she always did.