Emma realized she was staring awkwardly and quickly averted her gaze before replying. “Oh, um, no. I was thinking about the weather, actually.”

Ariel smiled. “Oh yeah, that too. But it only serves to highlight his muscles more when he wears those tight shirts to try and combat the heat.” Emma opened her mouth to reply, but Ariel pressed on. “ And no, there is nothing wrong with my marriage. I love Eric dearly. But I still have eyes!” she said with a giggle.

“I um… I guess…?” Emma didn't know how to respond.

“You should ask him out sometime! You're both single. Then you could tell me all about it and help feed my fantasies.”

“Ask who out?” came a voice from behind them as Neal settled on the bleachers next to Emma.

“No one,” Emma replied, shooting a warning look to Ariel. “Where were you?” she asked, changing the subject as she turned to face him. “The scrimmage is almost over.”

He rubbed his hand through his shaggy brown hair and looked at her with his big, brown, puppy dog eyes. “Shit, I'm sorry, Ems. I got held up at work.  I promise I'll be on time for the game on Thursday. That's the important thing, right?”

“Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your son.” It wasn't lost on Emma that her words echoed those of Coach Jones. “But don't give him empty promises. If you say you're going to be there, be there.”

“Alright, alright. I got it. You don’t have to badger me. I’ll be there with bells on, okay?”

She bit her lip to hold back the snarky reply waiting on the tip of her tongue. Neal’s nonchalance infuriated her. She’d found it charming when she first met him. She thought he was too cool to give a damn about anything. But now that he treated their son with the same laissez faire attitude, she wished Neal would learn to be conscientious. She would never trade her son for anything, but she chastised herself constantly for having ever hooked up with his father.

Thankfully, the rest of the scrimmage went well, and, as it wrapped up, she was glad to see the broad grin on Henry’s face when he saw his father. Neal walked onto the field to greet his son, and Emma trailed behind.

“Mrs. Swan?” She heard Coach Jones say as he approached her.

She smiled awkwardly at him. “Just Miss Swan, Coach Jones. How can I help you?” She struggled to maintain her composure up close. He was so good looking, with his dark hair, broad shoulders, soulful blue eyes and artful scruff covering his rugged jaw.

“I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you about Henry in private. I have some concerns about his behavior.” She felt her face pale at his words, which he must have noticed because he scrambled to amend his statement. “Oh! No, nothing dire, I assure you. Henry is a good boy.”

“Of course he is! He’s my son!” Neal said as he walked up with Henry at his side, his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Mom! Can we go get pizza?” Henry asked, his pleading brown eyes an exact match of his father's, only with more sincerity.

“Um, yeah, let me just finish up with Coach Jones and I can meet you guys there. Where are you going?”

“Oh, well, I was kinda hoping I could have some guy time with Henry…” Neal replied, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“It’s a school night, Neal,” Emma began.

“Please Mom! Dad can drop me off at the apartment when we’re done. I promise I’ll still get my homework done.”

She felt her resolve weaken. It was hard to deny Henry time with his father, an all too rare occurrence. “Fine,” Emma said. She turned her steely gaze to Neal, “You better have him home by 9:00 at the latest.”

“Yes officer.”

His mother’s permission having been granted, Henry headed off to the locker rooms to change. Neal called out that he'd be waiting for his son at the car, and, after a breezy goodbye to Emma, he headed that way. The field emptied out, but Coach Jones was still there.

“Well,” Emma started as she walked over to him. “It appears my evening has opened up. I’m free now if you want to talk.”

“Why don’t we get dinner at Granny’s?” Jones suggested. “I am afraid I unnecessarily worried you earlier, and I’d like to make up for my gaff.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his slyness. “Okay Coach Jones, I’ll meet you for dinner, but I’m paying for my own meal.”

“Alright,” he said with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling adorably. “But please, call me Killian.”

She returned his smile. “Only if you call me Emma.”

Sitting across from Emma Swan, Killian found his usual cool demeanor failing him. He’d been attracted to Henry’s mother from the moment he saw her, but told himself that he could never do more than admire her from afar. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to suggest they go out to dinner tonight. This conversation could just as easily have happened in his office. On school grounds. With other people around. Meeting her like this, in such a casual setting, felt almost like a date.

Thankfully, Emma did not seem afflicted by the same anxiety. “So, you said you had some concerns about Henry?”

“Ah, yes,” Killian began, clearing his throat. “Henry is a good boy, and he plays hard, but he seems overly focused on how others perceive him. He shows a talent for football, but I have noticed that his best performances always occur when his father is around.”

“I’ve seen that too,” she replied, her voice low. “He’s always been more of an introverted kid, writing stories and playing fantasy games with his friends. Neal has always pressed him to be more outgoing. I think that’s the only reason he tried out for football, to connect with his dad.”

“That’s an understandable motivation, but I need Henry to be more consistent. We can’t hinge all our games on whether or not his father will be there.” He paused, gauging her reaction before continuing. “I would like to have a conversation with him along these lines, but, considering the sensitive topic, I wanted to consult with you before I do so.”

She stared at him, and he could not interpret the look on her face. He had a moment of panic, fearing he'd overstepped his bounds, before the corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile. “Thank you… for offering to talk with him, but I think this would be better received coming from me.”

“That would be perfect. Henry is truly an asset to our team. I am proud to be coaching him.”

The waitress appeared then and they placed their orders. Once the menus were taken away, Emma placed her hands on the table and cocked her head slightly while she looked at him. He couldn’t help but admire her intelligent green eyes, soft skin, high cheekbones, and golden hair. He’d always found Emma Swan to be beautiful, but being this close to her, he saw now that she was more than beautiful- she was captivating.

Her soft pink lips fell open, and he realized with a start that he’d been gawking at her. He felt his cheeks flush as he picked up his glass and took a long sip of water.

“So,” she began, mercifully breaking the tension, “how did you end up coaching middle school football in Northeast Georgia? I hope I’m not wrong in assuming you’re not a native, considering your accent.”

He chuckled. “You are correct. I was raised in England, but I came to America when I was a freshman in high school. I was much more familiar with the version of football you Yanks call soccer, but there weren’t many options to play soccer in the town I lived in, so I learned American football. I played well enough to be awarded a college scholarship. Not well enough to earn fame and fortune, but it paid for me to get my degree.”

“As a teacher, right? How long have you been doing that?”

“Aye. I’ve been teaching for about ten years, but I only started coaching two years ago.”

“And you like being a coach?”

“I do. I’m glad I took on this responsibility. I love teaching, but coaching gives me an entirely different sense of fulfillment.”

“I should know this,” she said with a shy smile, “but what subject do you teach?”

“Eighth grade English and literature.”

“How’d you end up teaching middle school? That’s a hard age group. I am extremely lucky to have an easy kid like Henry, but even I get frustrated now and then.”

“Middle School is a difficult time of life, and that is just when students need extra support. I won’t tell you that I’ve never had a student bring me to my wit’s end, but for the most part I truly enjoy working with middle schoolers.”

“Well, I have to thank you. Henry really likes having you as a coach. He’s always going on about something ‘Coach J’ said. I’m glad he has someone like you setting an example for him.”

“I’m happy to be there for him.” He took another sip and looked at her, raising a single eyebrow. “Your turn, love. How did you end up working for the Sheriff’s office?”

“My brother’s the Sheriff.”

“Truly? David Nolan is your brother?”

“Yep. Well, by adoption, but he’s never treated me like anything less than his true sister.”

“I like David. I’ve only been able to interact with him on a few occasions, but I can see that he is a truly good person.”

“Do you know Mary Margaret? She teaches at the elementary school, so you two might not have met.”

“We've crossed paths a few times, at teacher meetings and the like. I have yet to meet a more upbeat person.”

“Truer words were never spoken,’ she said with a chuckle. “I wonder why you and I haven't ever seen each other before? It seems like we've both been in Storybrooke for a while, and it's not like it's a large town.”

“I've seen you, love. Several times. It just never felt right to approach you.”

“Why not?”

“You're a parent. Teacher parent relations outside of school aren't expressly forbidden, but they are discouraged.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Emma drew back, seemingly reluctant to have gone down this path in their conversation. Luckily she was saved by the arrival of their food.

After they'd both taken a few bites, Killian picked up the conversation once more. “So, have you always lived in Storybrooke?”

“No. I came here when I was twelve.”

“What brought you here?”

“Um…” she hesitated, putting her sandwich back on her plate and wiping her hands on a napkin. “It's not an easy story.”

She’d rested her hand on the table, and he gently placed his own hand over it. “You can trust me, Swan. I'll not spill your secrets.” He met her eyes with an earnest gaze.

She smiled nervously. “It's not exactly a secret. I'm surprised you haven't heard my story through the rumor mill already.”

“I haven't, but even if I had, I would prefer to hear the truth from you.”

Her smile bloomed into a radiant grin for just a brief moment, and it was like he was looking into the sun. As she began speaking, however, her countenance changed to a more pensive expression. “I was born in Maine, but my parents abandoned me when I was just a few days old. I don't know who they were. I got put in foster care. A family took me in, but when I was three they had their own child and I was moved.”

“They could just give up a child they'd adopted?”

“I was never adopted. They only fostered me.” She took a deep breath, her voice a little shaky. “After that I kind of bounced around. I'm told I was a willful child and gave most of the families a hard time. By the time I was twelve, I was living in group homes, and I'd had enough.”

“What did you do?”

“I stole some cash and bought a bus ticket. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go, but I had just enough money for a ticket to Atlanta, so I took that as a sign.”

“You, as a twelve year-old, rode a bus from Maine to Atlanta?”

“From Boston, actually. That's where I'd been placed originally.”

“What did you do when you arrived?”

“Starved, mostly. But then I met David and his mother Ruth, completely by chance. And David, being David, wouldn't let me walk away. It took a while, but I eventually learned to trust them, and they took me in. Ruth adopted me when I was sixteen. I only got a few years with her after that, but I cherish every one. She was an amazing woman.”

“She sounds like it.”

Emma sniffled slightly before taking in a deep breath. “So, tell me more about you. You said you came to the states as a high school freshman. What brought you here?”

“Well, like you, it’s not exactly a happy tale. I grew up with my mother and older brother. Our father abandoned us when I was very young.” He paused to clear his throat. The next part of the story never got easier, no matter how often he told it. “When I was thirteen, Mum got sick very suddenly. Cancer, late stage. Liam was in the Navy, stationed on a submarine, and we couldn’t contact him. She died quickly, and, as I had no other family nearby, the social worker contacted my father. To this day I don’t know how she was able to obtain his contact information so easily when Mum hadn’t heard from him in ages.”

Killian looked down at his plate, idly picking the sesame seeds off the bun of his hamburger. He lifted his head and saw Emma watching him without any pity, just understanding, and it was a balm to his nerves. Having lost his appetite, he shoved the plate to the side, but felt compelled to continue his tale. He found himself wanting to share things with Emma that he hadn’t been willing to share with another person for a very long time.

“So,” he said, taking a deep breath, “turns out dear old Dad was living in the States, in Florida. When he heard about Mum, he offered to take me in, even paying for my airfare. I didn’t want to go, but he was still legally my father. It was all over before Liam even heard about our mother’s death. Liam tried to get custody of me, but it was a very difficult battle, especially once I was stateside and in my father’s care. Dad had turned over a new leaf. He had a new American wife and a little boy named Will. Pretty hard to get a judge to agree that living with my bachelor elder brother was a better situation.”

“It must have been really hard for you, coming to a new country, not having your brother, and having to reconnect with your father.”

“It was. I was very angry. Dad had his perfect little family. I resented him for leaving us behind. He tried to give me excuses, but I wouldn’t listen. His wife, Maria, was the person who saved me from myself. She has the patience of a saint, that one. She convinced me to visit a therapist, reconnected me with Liam, and even helped me make a plan to move back to the UK once I was legally an adult.”

“Did you go back?”

“No… um…” his throat choked up. “Liam was killed in an accident two years later.”

“Oh Killian, I am so sorry!” She got up and moved to his side of the booth, taking his hand in her own and rubbing soothing circles on the back with her thumb.

“Thank you, love” he said, his voice husky. “It’s in the past. It was a very difficult time in my life, but playing sports helped tremendously. The routine and camaraderie with my teammates helped me get through.”

“I’m glad you had that to keep you grounded.”

“As am I.”

“Do you still keep in touch with your dad and Maria?”

“Aye. They moved down to Palm Beach, and Will is in college. We get together at holidays.”

“Family is nice.”

“It is.” He looked down and saw that their fingers were still entwined. “It appears we have much in common.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “I’d say we understand each other.”

Their food had gone cold, but neither minded. They continued their conversation, staying as long as they dared before Emma had to leave to make sure Henry was home on time. When they parted ways, Killian felt lighter than he had in years. And that night when he slept, he had a pleasing dream involving the beach, a light breeze, and Emma’s golden tresses flowing in the wind.

It was the night of the first game of the season. Henry’s first game as a football player. The night Neal promised he wouldn’t be late. And he wasn’t there.

Emma’s heart broke for her son. As she’d promised Killian, she had spoken with Henry about being distracted at the games. He seemed to understand and take her words to heart, but now it appeared as if nothing had stuck. Henry was constantly looking toward the bleachers, distracted from the game. Because of this, he’d lost control of the ball and allowed the opposing team to take possession. The Storybrooke Knights were down by a touchdown as a result.

They were midway through the second quarter. Mary Margaret and David had come out to support their nephew, and were very charitably attributing Henry’s flawed performance to anything other than his father’s absence

“He must be nervous, poor kid,” David said. He clapped his hands and yelled loudly “Go Knights!” in an attempt to cheer on Henry.

“I’m sure Neal got held up at work. He’ll be here soon,” Mary Margaret said, her green eyes shining with their trademark look of hope. She smoothed her short black hair and scrutinized her sister-in-law. “Is there anything else going on?” She followed Emma’s gaze to the field before realizing that Emma wasn’t looking at the field, but rather the sideline where Coach Jones stood, anxiously watching the action.

“Killian Jones is the coach, huh? I never would have thought of him for this role, but he seems to  be doing really well with the kids.”

“Yeah, he’s a good coach. Henry really likes him.”

“Not just Henry, judging by the look on your face.”

Emma turned to give her sister-in-law an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re into him. I can see it in the way you look at him. And Ruby told me you had dinner with him at Granny’s the other night.”

“We had dinner to talk about Henry, that’s it. I’m not ‘into’ him.” She emphasized her words with air quotes.

“Right,” Mary Margaret replied before fanning herself with her hand. “Man it’s hot out here! I wonder why Coach Jones decided to wear black jeans instead of shorts.”

“Blue jeans,” Emma replied automatically before realizing the trap that had been laid for her.

“Really? His jeans are blue? How can you tell when it’s so dark?”

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Emma grumbled before turning her attention back to the game.

Neal didn’t arrive until the last two minutes of the first half. By that time the team was behind, 14-0. Killian lingered at the sideline after they filed off the field, and Emma took a chance to step down from the bleachers and approach him.

“Swan,” he said, his smile forced, an exasperated look marring his features.

“Rough game, huh?”

“They’re still children, I don’t want to pressure them too much. But we had such high hopes going into this game.”

“Well, Neal is here now, so maybe things will pick up in the second half?” Emma smiled at him sheepishly.

Killian sighed in response and scrubbed his hand down his face. “No offense, Emma, but I don’t want the success of my team to hang on whether or not your ex can get his shit together.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her heart started racing and her voice went up an octave, her body jumping into defense mode. “You think I told him to be late? You think I want my son stressing out like this?”

“Of course not,” Killian backtracked. “I didn’t mean that, but I thought you were going to talk about this with Henry?”

“I did!” she hissed, pulling him aside so they were more secluded. “But I can’t control anything about this situation, and it kills me much more than it wounds your precious pride. It’s just a damn game to you, Killian. Meanwhile, I have to watch my son’s heart get broken every fucking day.  So don’t give me some lecture about how your team of middle school kids are losing one game because my son desperately craves validation from his father.”

Killian set his jaw and stared at her. “This has nothing to do with my pride. This is about my team. The entire team. I need Henry to be able to focus, and if he can’t do that, then maybe he’s not cut out for football.”

“You’d cut him? He’s twelve. This is a middle school football league.”

“And one of the reasons parents sign their kids up for this is to help them learn how to work as part of a team. Now, I am going to talk to all my players and encourage them to get their heads in the game and pull out a worthwhile performance. I am not worried about winning or losing, so long as they all put in their best effort. And Henry is not doing that right now. If he can’t shape up, he will be cut.”

Emma was speechless as she watched him walk away to the small, concrete block structure that served as a locker room. She really wished alcohol was allowed at these events. Unable to drink, she did the next best thing and trudged up the bleachers to yell at her ex for being so late.

Killian had not seen Emma since the night of the team’s first game. Instead, Henry’s father made a show of attending every scrimmage, always on time. It was quite an improvement on his part, and Killian couldn’t help but feel happy for the lad.

They did not win their first game, but Henry improved in the second half. He was becoming a more conscientious player, although his father attending the entirety of their practice games was the most likely cause of his improvement. Killian still worried about how Henry would react if Neal suddenly returned to his old ways.

If he was honest with himself, Killian also missed Emma. After admiring her from afar for so long, it was painful now to not have the ability to further explore their potential relationship. He longed to apologize to her for his behavior that night. He'd been frustrated and said things he shouldn't have. He was unable to catch up with her after the game and hadn't seen her since.

After ruminating on these thoughts in his office one night, long after school ended, he decided to get out of his own head and go for a drink. Killian tried not to drink often. He had a bad history with alcohol, which at one point had nearly lost him his college scholarship. But, after many years of abstinence, he'd taught himself how to drink in moderation and enjoyed a nice glass of rum every now and then.

He stepped into his favorite establishment, the Rabbit Hole, and approached the bar. Just as he was about to take the first empty stool, he saw her. She looked as beautiful as ever, her golden tresses framing her face and accentuating her high cheekbones. A spot was open next to her, and he made his way over before he could think too much about it.

“Is this spot taken?” He asked as he gestured to the empty stool.

She looked up at him, and he could not read the expression in her eyes. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she opened her mouth to respond. He caught himself fixating on her lips and almost didn't hear what she said.

“Long time no see, Coach Jones.”

“Aye, Miss Swan. I've missed you at our scrimmages.”

“Yeah well… if I told you I was a little embarrassed to show my face after the fight we had, would you believe me?”

“I would, because I feel the same. I am sorry for the things I said. I let my temper and my frustration get the better of me.”

“I’m sorry too. I think we both got a little carried away.” She took a sip from her nearly empty drink. “That being said, I think it's better that Neal is the primary parent for football. He knows more about the sport.”

“I'm glad he is there for Henry now, but his sudden change in behavior is somewhat surprising. I can't help but worry that it's not sustainable.”

She was silent for a moment, studying the melting ice in her glass. “I think the change will stick. I’ve given him hell in the past for skipping out, but he really didn't start paying attention until I told him Henry might get cut from the team. He wanted to put the blame on you and go complain to the principal at first, but I talked him down from that, and he finally agreed to start attending scrimmages.”

“I appreciate you saving me from another parent yelling at me about how I am robbing their child of an opportunity. I just hope you are right.”

“Neal is a selfish bastard, but I think he's finally gotten the message. He does love his son.”

The bartender came and took their order, and Killian used the opportunity to gather his wits. There was a time when he'd been good with women, and he tried to channel that part of himself now. “ As I said, Swan, I am happy for Henry, but I don't wish to discuss your ex.”

“Yeah?” She rested her elbows on the bar and looked at him slyly. “So what do you want to talk about?”

His rum arrived then, and he took a sip before replying. “I've missed seeing you. We'd only just begun to get to know one another, and I think I've made it clear that I've admired you for quite some time.”

“I thought I was off limits,” she responded, her voice husky as she batted her eyelashes.

“I’ve been thinking about that, and technically I'm not your son’s teacher, just his coach.”

“I see… Well that makes all the difference. Any other revelations?”

“Just that I can't stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you. I regret not taking the chance when I had it.”

“Oh?” She angled her body toward him and tilted her head slightly. “Well, if you play your cards right you might get another.” She put a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, and squeezed gently.

Although he was trying to be a gentleman, that simple touch went straight to his groin. He stifled a moan. It had been too long since he'd been with a woman. Instead, he mustered a cheeky grin and tilted his glass toward hers. “Well then, a toast to second chances.”

Emma felt like a naughty teenager as she made out with Killian Jones in the alley next to the Rabbit Hole. They were trying to remain undetected, but doing a poor job of it judging by the sounds they were making.

Jones's mouth plundered her own, wrapping around her bottom lip and sucking gently, nibbling until she moaned and opened up, allowing him to slide his tongue inside. Their heads tilted and the kiss deepened, the firm press of his lips to her own fueling her fantasies of what else he could do with that mouth.

They parted to pull in some much needed breaths, before his sinful lips began to mark a trail down her neck. His hands pulled her hips into his own.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered against her neck. “I've wanted to taste you for so long.”

“Come back to my place,” she whispered. “Henry is spending the night with his dad.”

He stopped, his mouth hovering over the hollow of her throat. “You are a siren, tempting me to my doom.” The vibration of his voice against her skin made her shiver. “I would love nothing more than to spend the night worshipping you, but I must insist on being a gentleman.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, running her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head.

“Let me take you on a date, love. A real date.” His hand flew up to cup her cheek as he lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. “Let me treat you like you deserve.”

The Indian Summer heat wave had yet to abate, and, even at night, the humidity pressed down on them. She watched as a bead of sweat rolled down Killian's throat and wanted nothing more than to follow it with her tongue. “Are you sure we can't do both?” She grabbed the collar of his shirt and latched her mouth onto his neck, acting on her thoughts.

His head fell back and he groaned in frustration. “Emma, please, can we take this slow? I don't want to rush.”

His shaky voice gave her pause, and she froze in place. “You really want to take me out first?” She lifted her head and met his eyes once more.

“Yes. I do. More than anything.” He held the stare and pressed his lips together.

“Okay,” she finally said, sliding her hands down to his shoulders and leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to his lips.

At the next game, Emma sat closer to the sidelines, and surreptitiously tried to check out Killian’s butt every chance she got. A cold snap had finally come, and she was wearing a light sweater under her favorite red leather jacket. And if she’d been a little extra precise when applying her makeup that evening, it was no one’s business but her own.

Ariel was there again, this time with Rory Prince, whose son, Phil, played defense. Ariel gave Emma a sly look before leaning over to Rory.

“She’s definitely interested in the coach.”

“Who could blame her?” Rory replied. “They’d be super cute together. I ship it.”

“We’re just friends,” Emma replied, looking at the two other women with a furrowed brow.

“Okay,” Ariel replied. “But if you ever change your mind and decide to go for more, you have our full support and encouragement.”

“Absolutely,” Rory chimed in. “Henry is welcome to spend the night any time you need a date night.”

“But please,” Ariel added, “give us details. I need to know if he's as good of a kisser as I imagine.”

Emma couldn't stop the blush that rose up her face as she recalled memories from their night at the Rabbit Hole. “Thanks…” She schooled her features and looked forward, watching the game closely.

“Oh yeah. She wants him,” Rory said. Emma took some deep breaths and tried to ignore them.

When Emma had agreed to a date with Killian, she'd made one request: they had to go somewhere outside of town, to avoid the prying eyes of small town neighbors.

Killian spent an entire evening agonizing over their destination before finally finding the perfect solution. Now it was the night of the date, and he pulled into the parking lot and headed to the gate to meet her.

“The fair? Really?” She asked as she walked up to him a short while later.

He had a moment of panic. “Would you rather go elsewhere?”

“No!” Her mouth stretched into a big smile. “I love the fair! I haven't been to one in years.” She lifted up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Perfect choice.”

He relaxed and offered her his arm. After purchasing their admission and ride passes, they entered, walking down the aisle of carnival games first. Emma’s face lit up as she pointed out the oversized stuffed animals hanging from the top of the tents. Killian determined that he would win her one of those prizes before they left.

They made their way to the ride section and lined up for Tilt-A-Whirl. The childlike joy on Emma’s face warmed his heart. As they settled into their seats and the lap bar was lowered, she giggled in anticipation. The sound was pure magic. The ride started moving, slowly at first but picking up speed. As they spun around, Emma's giggles turned into full on laughs and Killian joined in. The ride was over almost as quickly as it began, but their joy continued as they lined up to ride the bumper cars next.

They worked their way through the ride section, leaving the ferris wheel for last. When it came time for the wheel, they were ushered into a gondola by the attendant and then waited as they were slowly moved forward so more riders could board. Killian took the opportunity to admire Emma’s profile, cast in the glow of neon against the backdrop of the darkening sky.

She caught his eye and smiled. “This is wonderful. I'm so glad we did this.”

“Aye. Me too.” He reached over and threaded their fingers together.

She snuggled into his side just as the ride began to move. “You know,” Emma said, “I don't normally like heights, but this is really nice. The view is breathtaking.”

“That it is,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving her face.

She tore her gaze from the view to meet his own. Her lips lifted into a shy smile and she tilted her chin up. He took the hint and met her mouth with his own, their kiss sweet and unhurried. The gondola rocked gently in response to their movement and the motion of the ride. They continued kissing even as they passed by the bottom of the ride where other riders were waiting. It was only when someone directed a whooping call their way that they broke apart, both flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

They ascended once more, and Emma leaned her head on his shoulder. “I really like you, Killian.”

“I feel the same. You are an exceptional woman.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, biting her lip. “ Do you think we should… ‘go public’? Tell people we're dating?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I do. But… maybe not just yet? It has nothing to do with you. It's just the other moms.”

“What do they have to do with it?”

“They have been trying to push you and me together all season! They've all got the hots for you, and they want me to tell them everything that goes on between us. If they find out we're dating now, I'll never be able to make it through the rest of the season.” Upon conclusion of her speech, her nerves got the better of her and she looked away.

“I’ll follow your lead on this.” He whispered as he lifted her arm to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

They hadn't noticed that the ride stopped until the attendant cleared his throat. They broke apart and Killian stepped out before helping Emma exit.

Once they were back on solid ground, Killian joined their hands once more. “Let’s find something to eat, shall we?”

He led her to the food section, and they were immediately overwhelmed with the scent of fried cuisine. After perusing their choices, Emma opted for a corn dog while Killian got a slice of truly greasy pizza. They shared some onion rings and had cotton candy for dessert. Having eaten their fill, they headed back toward the midway to try their hand at some games.

The first game they approached was a basketball toss, where they competed to see who could make the most baskets. Emma’s laughs were so beautiful, and Killian found himself distracted during the game, which led to her winning. He didn’t mind very much when he saw her dazzling smile.

Similar to the rides, they proceeded down the aisle, also playing the ball toss, skeeball, and the water gun shooting gallery. The booth at the end of the row housed a balloon pop game, as well as the array of stuffed animals Emma had admired on their way in. She pointed to it again, identifying one of the smaller prizes hanging on the side.

“Look at that bear dressed like a pirate! Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

He saw the toy in question, a medium-sized stuffed bear wearing black trousers and shirt, with a red vest and a hook for a hand. It was certainly one of the more unique prizes. He remembered his pledge from earlier to win her a prize and approached the booth.

“What do I need to do in order to win that bear?” he asked the attendant, pointing to it.

“Pop one of the red balloons,” the lad answered. “Five dollars for three darts. Wanna try?”

Killian fished a five dollar-bill out of his pocket and handed it to the young man and was given three rubber tipped darts in return. He felt confident that he would win the prize. He’d always been excellent at darts.

His first throw somehow managed to land between a blue and red balloon. The second hit a red balloon, but bounced off. This mishap helped him to understand the trick. Most of the balloons were not fully inflated, making them harder to pop. Holding his last dart in his right hand, he stepped back slightly and took stock of the entire board. One red balloon, in the upper right hand corner, looked fuller than the rest. He had his target.

He took a few steps to the right and angled his body in line with the balloon. Emma watched him with rapt attention. Killian closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. When he felt conditions were right, he threw the dart with extra force. It whistled through the air and hit the target directly on the head. There was a loud pop and Emma cried out in surprise.

“You did it!”

He smiled at her infectious joy. “I’ll take that bear now, young man.”

The attendant took down the bear and handed it to Killian. He turned and presented it to Emma.

“Thank you! No one has ever won me a prize at the fair before.”

“Truly?”

“I’ve only ever been to the fair before with Henry, so I’m normally the one trying to win the prizes. It’s nice to be on the other end for a change.”

He smiled at her. “Well, I am glad I could win that for you.”

“Me too.” She threaded her arm through his as they continued walking, leaning her head on his shoulder once more.

They decided to walk around to the back of the fair, where live music was playing. As they traveled, he could feel Emma thinking. ‘What’s on your mind, love?”

She stopped walking and gave him a nervous smile. “I hope you’re not mad about what I said on the ferris wheel. About not wanting to tell anyone about us. I’m starting to feel guilty after you’ve given me such a great night.”

“You have no need to feel guilty. I understand your reasons for wanting to keep our relationship under wraps.”

“And you're not mad?”

“Of course not, Emma. As long as we can find a way to see one another, I can deal with everything else.”

She picked up his hand and pressed a firm kiss to the back, mimicking his action from earlier. “The last game is in November, right?”

“Aye, the first Thursday of the month.”

“Okay, as soon as that's over, we'll let everyone know.”

“Sounds like a perfect way to end the season, Swan.” He gave her a goofy grin before leaning down to give her another soft kiss.

Emma huddled into her jacket. It was the last game of the season, and the weather was finally congruent with the date, the early November air having a slight chill. She was enjoying fall, but knew that the winter cold would arrive all too soon. It seemed like their little corner of the south was always too hot or too cold. There weren’t many days that fell in between.

Despite the chill in the air, her spirits were high. The Storybrooke Knights had had a great season, and, if they won this game, they would break a school record for most wins in a season which had been set more than a decade prior. Emma had also found that by making Neal solely responsible for Henry’s football career, he’d begun to step up as a parent in other ways. Henry was becoming more secure in his relationship with his father, which was all she ever really wanted for her son.

But the true source of Emma’s joy was in the form of the team’s coach, currently cheering on his charges from the sidelines. They’d had several more dates, and Emma felt like Killian Jones was someone she could be with for a long time. He was sweet and thoughtful and giving, and just thinking of him warmed her cheeks. They’d told Henry about their relationship a week ago, consigning him to secrecy. Henry was fortunately good at keeping secrets (though she wasn’t sure how she felt about that in the grand scheme of things), so thankfully no one else suspected she was dating Killian. She watched him now and couldn’t stop the thought that she was well on her way to falling in love with this man.

“You know…” she heard Ariel say from her right, “now that the season is over, you should totally ask Coach Jones out.”

“You’re still hung up on that?” Emma asked, not looking away from the field. She had to bite her cheek to stop her sly smile from giving her away.

“Not hung up on it. I just want to see you both happy.”

“Save yourself the trouble, Ariel,” Mary Margaret said, leaning around her sister-in-law to address the redhead. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Emma, it’s that pushing her toward something is the fastest way to get her to reject it.”

“Ohhh,” Ariel replied. “Reverse psychology, huh? I get it.” She paused their discussion to cheer on her daughter, who was going onto the field to kick for a field goal. Melody was an accurate kicker, and sent the ball exactly where it needed to be, giving the Knights the advantage. The stands erupted in cheers. There were five minutes left in the game, and the Knights were up by three.

After a few more plays, the opposing team called a timeout, and Ariel took the chance to continue their discussion. “You totally should not go for Coach Jones, Emma. You two would make a terrible couple.” She winked at Mary Margaret over Emma’s shoulder.

“Wait, what?” Rory asked, returning from a restroom break. ‘We don’t want Emma to hook up with Jones now?”

“Nope,” Ariel replied, a goofy smile on her face. “She shouldn’t even consider it.”

“I am so confused right now,” Rory said, but once more the conversation was stopped when Phil intercepted the ball. He ran it for twenty yards before he was tackled. The clock had run down, and there was one minute left in the game. This would be the last play. The Knights’ offensive line took the field and lined up a play Emma recognized from their scrimmages. Henry was going to get the ball.

The play began, and Henry ran to get into position. The quarterback threw the ball and it sailed down the field, landing smoothly in her son’s arms. He ran. The other team tried to block him, but he used his ability to bob and weave and found holes in the defense they didn’t see. He made it to the end zone just as the clock ticked down to twenty seconds left in the game.

A raucous cheer broke out as fans of the Storybrooke Knights applauded their team. The crowd quieted long enough for Melody to kick the point after, making the final score 17-7. The Knights had won, and the record was broken! Parents and fans cheered loudly as the players graciously shook hands with the opposing team.

Emma ran down the bleachers, and Ariel, Rory, and Mary Margaret called after her to stop. Parents weren’t allowed on the field. But all three of their jaws dropped when Emma stopped at the sideline and ran up to Coach Jones. She cried out in excitement before bouncing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He reciprocated her embrace, encircling her waist in his arms.

Emma looked up at Killian, love shining in her eyes, and his own reflecting the same. “Congratulations, Coach Jones.”

“Why thank you, Miss Swan. Can I kiss you now?”

“You think you can handle it?” she asked, her smile spreading across her cheeks.

He didn’t respond, but instead lowered his head and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was tender and chaste, a brief intermingling of lips, but still expressing all their passion. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “I think they are the ones who can’t handle it,” he said, enunciating the ‘t’ as he turned his head to gesture toward the three other women still gaping at them.

“They’ll get used to it,” Emma rose up and met his lips once more, but they were cut short when a triumphant cry came from the bleachers.

“I KNEW it!” Ariel called out, pumping her fist in the air.

Emma smiled. “I guess reverse psychology was all it took!” she called out in response.

“Reverse psychology?” Killian asked.

“I’ll tell you later.” They broke apart and threaded their fingers together, ready to join the victorious Storybrooke Knights.

There is one all-time greatest moment in the history of sports, and it happened in the 1932 World Series. The story goes that in the bottom of the ninth inning with two outs, a full count and the tying run on base, Babe Ruth raised his arm and pointed to the center field bleachers. No one believed it, because nobody had ever done it before. But The Babe was calling his shot. On the next pitch, the Great Bambino hit a towering home run. And even though he'd been a hero before that, that's pretty much how he became a legend. Sixty years later, a kid named Killian Jones was a neighborhood legend. We met in the greatest summer of my life when he taught me to play baseball, and he became my best friend, and maybe a little more than that.  

-----

Killian Jones was always going to do great things in the world of baseball. Emma knew this from the first moment she saw him. She had just moved in with a new foster family, the Swans, and was sitting on the porch of her new house with a book. Killian was 15, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it in his glove as he walked along the street. Emma was 13, but she was instantly drawn to him. He stopped in front of her house inexplicably, looked over at her, and smiled. She smiled back. He nodded and went back to walking, tossing the ball along the way. Emma watched him walk away, then went back to her book.

------

Emma had long, light blonde hair. She had green eyes with hazel flecks in places. She liked to wear oversized flannel shirts, T-shirts, and jean shorts. She was a pretty girl, but she never emphasized her beauty.

Killian was a tall and lanky teen. He didn't look like he had power, but he had the best swing of anyone. His eyes were always the brightest, clearest blue. He had a mop of chestnut brown hair atop his head. He always looked curious, like he wanted to learn more.

------

In all her foster homes -- out of all seven of them, no one had ever taught Emma how to play catch. And it didn’t bother her most of the time, just when she got put in homes in neighborhoods with lots of kids. They all played in clearings and backyards, and she would watch from the window in her room. She didn’t even know how to catch a ball, or throw one for that matter. At the rate she moved, no school would put her in a gym class because they figured she wouldn’t be around long enough to buy a uniform. And no gym uniform meant that she couldn’t participate in PE. Emma did feel lucky she never had to take gym class, as that would most likely involve a ball of some sort. But in general, to save herself the embarrassment, she had fun doing other things. She liked to read, and she was very artistic. Still, she longed to be able to run around with all the other kids her age, and to maybe even make a couple friends.

So far, moving in with the Swans was no different than any of the other homes. Emma would often sit on her porch steps with a book, which she used as a cover as she watched the neighborhood kids riding bikes and playing soccer in their yards. From her foster father’s office, she could see a clearing behind her house where some kids were in a perpetual game of kickball. Emma never felt comfortable asking to join. Even if she could kick the ball, she could never play in the field. They’d laugh and she’d never be invited to play ever again. So she would just watch.

-----

“Emma, honey.” Emma looked up from her book as her foster mother, Ingrid Swan, came into her bedroom. Emma bookmarked her page and sat up against her headboard.

“Hi,” Emma smiled at her new mother.

Ingrid hesitated before sighing and asking, “have you made any friends yet?”

Emma shrugged in response.

“I love that you love reading, and I love how creative you are,” she gestured to the pictures Emma painted taped on wall and the library books littering her desk, “but I think it would be good for you to make some friends with kids in the neighborhood. Maybe you can play outside with them every once in a while. A little sun is good for you.” Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Ingrid beat her to it, “and, yes, I know you read outside, but we both know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll try.” That’s what Ingrid would hope to hear, and Emma felt she needed her new mother to be happy. If Ingrid wasn’t happy with Emma, she could send her back, and that was the last thing Emma wanted.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there, hon?” Emma bit her lip and nodded. “Emma, you can tell me.”

“It’s just,” she hesitated. Ingrid looked so caring, and Emma really wanted this to work. So she took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t know how to catch a ball. Or throw one.” She muttered the words quietly, but Ingrid appears to have been able to hear her. “I never had anyone to teach me, so I never learned.”

Ingrid smiled. “Well, let’s fix that.”

“What?”

“Did you know your father used to want to be a baseball player?”

Emma smiled. “Really?”

“When he was little, he would draw his own baseball cards. Arthur Swan, pitcher. I bet he’d love to teach you.”  

Emma was excited by the thought. She was actually going to learn how to play ball like the other kids. “Yeah, okay. That sounds great.”

-----

“Alright, Emma, I’m going to throw this baseball to you. You’re going to catch it in your glove.” Emma nodded. Arthur nodded back and threw the ball underhand, right for her glove. She recoiled away from it.

“Sorry!” She grabbed it, worried he’d give up on her.

“It’s alright, kid. You don’t need to be afraid of the ball. It doesn’t hurt to catch.” She nodded. “Okay. Now throw it back to me.” She looked at the ball, then at her foster father, then back at the ball. “Just bring your arm back, then guide it forward and let go.”

Emma brought her arm back, but she let go too soon and the ball went behind her. She let out another “sorry” and went to grab the ball. This time, she ran it back to Arthur.

“Let’s work on catching first then," Arthur started, a determined grin on his face as he held the ball in front of his right eye. "Keep your eye on the ball, and don’t back away. Got it? They key to this game is keeping your eye on the ball. No matter whether you're in the field or at bat, eye on the ball, okay?”

He looked to Emma to see if she understood, and Emma nodded sheepishly even though she had just about zero confidence in her ability to catch a baseball.

Staring across the yard at her foster dad, only one thought circled through her mind: How was she going to catch anything?

"Trust me, Emma," Arthur said, seemingly sensing her apprehension. "I used to be so good that my friends called me The King. Thought I was gonna be the next Bambino." Emma stared blankly, clearly not getting the reference. Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "That's a lesson for another day. Anyway, what you've gotta know is where the ball goes, your glove should go." He paused before asking, "got it?”

“Yeah, okay."

Arthur nodded at her, confident that he could help his new daughter catch a ball.

“Okay, alright,” he said before giving a final nod to Emma to let her know he was about to throw it. When she held her glove up in front of her, he sent the ball her way.

Apparently, Emma took his advice quite literally because in one moment, she saw Arthur toss the ball, and in the next, there was pain in her eye as her glove went into it.

“Ow!" she cried. "Oh, my eye! Ow! Ow!”

Out of her good eye, Emma watched Arthur drop his own glove and run over to her, calling for Ingrid as he did so. Ingrid ran out to find them both struggling to get Emma’s eye open so they could assess the damage.

However, despite the pain and temporary blurred vision in one of her eyes, Emma was able to see a silver lining.

“I kept my eye on the ball!” She laughed as Arthur pried her glove off her hand.

“You also caught the ball!" He held up her glove, newly pulled off her hand, the ball snugly inside.

Ingrid was not waiting around for Emma and Arthur to finish their bonding conversation when Emma was injured. “Emma, let’s go inside and get some ice on that before it swells more.” She followed Ingrid inside, Arthur trailing not far behind. Ingrid grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel, and placed it over Emma’s eye.

“It’s going to bruise. I’m sorry, Em.”

“Arthur, how did this even happen?” Ingrid crossed her arms as Emma took over pressing the ice pack into her own face.

“I - uh,” Arthur stuttered, seemingly confused himself as to how such an event managed to occur. He looked at Emma, standing between her foster parents with an ice pack covering half her face. “It'll still be black, but it won't swell. Sorry.” He looked nervous, like Emma would up and run away because of an accidental black eye.

“It’s okay. I caught the ball.” And when all three Swans started to laugh, Emma finally felt like she might actually be a part of a forever family.

-----

Walking home from the library one day, black eye still present, Emma stopped by the field in which the neighborhood kids were playing baseball. She watched them day after day as she passed the field, but this is the first time she stopped. They played every day, the game seemingly never-ending. Every day, they picked up where they left off. They didn’t keep score. They played because they loved it.

Tightening her grip on her book to bring her back to reality, she became aware of voices yelling in her direction.

“Hey!”

“Can you get the ball?”

“Throw it back!”

Emma looked around quickly trying to find their ball. She spotted it a few feet to her left. She ran to grab it, then froze.

“Hey, just throw the ball!”

“What’s taking you so long?” “Throw it back!”

She didn’t know how to throw properly, but she was overwhelmed by screaming boys. Against her better judgment, she pulled her arm back and threw the ball. Only, it didn’t go more than three feet. The screams that had just overwhelmed her quickly turned to laughter, and she scanned the faces of the eight boys a few times before muttering a “sorry” and running the rest of the way home. She was upset her unfortunate eye on the ball situation halted her lesson. She needed to learn to play, and she needed to get redemption.

-----

Emma sat on her front porch reading her latest recommendation from the librarian. She was getting lost in the novel, her senses to her actual, physical setting seeming to dull as she digested the words on the page. It would take her two days maximum to finish this one.

Emma was snapped back to reality when her peripheral vision picked up on a figure sitting next to her. She bookmarked her page and and turned toward the intruder so she could get rid of whoever it was. She quickly lost sight of that goal when she saw Killian Jones -- that kid with the baseball and the team -- smiling at her. He was something of a neighborhood legend, whispers about him fluttering through the kids at neighborhood parties she attended with Ingrid and at the community pool when she went to cool off. And being a part of a neighborhood, it was easy to catch gossip as she read or drew quietly outside. She was a near-expert eavesdropper.

“The Outsiders?”

“What?”

“Your book.” He pointed to her lap. “The Outsiders. We read it in school last year.”

She let out a quiet, “oh.”

“It’s a fantastic read. Are you enjoying it?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s pretty good. I’m not really that far yet.” She held up the book so he could see the ratio of read pages to unread. She hoped he’d understand that she wanted to read uninterrupted.

He didn’t take the hint. “Would you like to play baseball with me? I’ve got a whole team -- well, almost. I was kind of hoping you’d be our ninth player.”

“I - I can’t play baseball. You saw me.”

He didn’t let her finish her thought. “Sure you can.”

“I really can’t.”

“It’s instinctual.”

“I don’t have those instincts.” Emma could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy victory. They were clearly both stubborn.

“Could you just show up? Take up space? There’s a gaping hole where a player should be.”

“And if the ball comes to me?”

“You’ll know what to do in the moment.”

“I really won’t.”

He stared at the lawn for a few seconds, seemingly considering his next move.

“I’m Killian Jones, by the way.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” He quirked his eyebrows in such a way Emma couldn’t help but smile.

“Emma.” She held out her right hand. He took it in his own.

“You’re the new Swan kid.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He let go of her hand and smirked. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Swan. I’ll be by tomorrow, and we’ll walk to the sandlot together.” He stood up and started walking away. Emma’s jaw was nearly on the ground.

Pulling herself together, she yelled after him, “I didn’t say I’d join your team.”

He stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “Something tells me you will. I promise you’ll have fun.” He turned around, smile already planted on his face. “Dress comfortably.” He took off his baseball cap and threw it to her. It landed on the ground at her feet. “And wear that.” He turned back around confidently and began walking away.

In that moment, staring at Killian Jones’ back disappear, she knew he had won.

-------

“Alright, guys. This is Emma Swan. She's our ninth man. Now we have a full team.”

“Why did you bring her, Jones?”

“Yeah, she can't play.”

“She ain’t game.”

“Come on, Jones. We were fine before.”

“Look, I want a full team. Now we have it.” Killian glanced between Emma and the boys.

“We had a full team before Booth moved away.”

“Yeah, and we never filled in Booth’s spot. Why now?”

“With her, I get to rotate eight positions instead of seven. I need the practice, guys.”

“You're the best on the team. You don't need any practice.” All the boys groaned but the one that said this. He stood with his arms crossed, seemingly studying Killian. His gaze barely lingered on Emma. That was different from the other boys, all of who are shooting daggers her way.

“No, you don't.”

“You're the best, man.”

“Come on, Jones, man. The girl is…”

“...A weenie!”

“Yeah. Oscar Mayer even. Foot-long!”

“What are you laughing at, Scarlet? You run like a duck.” That shut the boy - Scarlet - up real fast.

“Look, man, you saw the way she throws. She can’t play.”

“It's not like you were all great players when you started. So give her a chance. She's got it. I'm telling you.”

The kid -- Scarlet -- spoke up again. “Guys, don’t you see Jones only brought her here because he wants her to be his girlfriend?” Emma felt her cheeks warm immediately. She felt her hand sweating in the glove Killian gave her before they arrived at the field, on the correct hand after Killian had corrected her when she initially put it on the wrong hand. There were snickers across the group until Killian flashed them all a glare that not one of the other kids dared to challenge.

There was silence among the boys as they continued looking Emma over. Killian took Emma’s elbow and pulled her closer to the rest of the group.

“Swan, this is Liam, my older brother. He’s 18, but he hangs out with us while he works part-time so he can get a car.” The tall, curly haired boy -- man -- was the one watching Killian instead of her earlier. He failed to hold back a knowing smile as he looked between Emma and Killian. Emma crushed an ant in the dirt under her shoe.

Killian, either oblivious to the situation or just trying to ignore it, continued the introductions. “This is Eric. We call him Squints because he's blind without his glasses. This is Will Scarlet, David Nolan, Robin Locksley. This is Grumpy and Sneezy; they're twins. Grumpy’s got an attitude and Sneezy has year-round allergies.”

There were a few muffled “hey”s and some barely intelligible “hi”s. There was a rogue sneeze. Emma bent her elbow slightly in attempt to wave. She croaked out a soft, “hi,” as she avoided eye contact with any of the boys. She tucked some hair behind her ear and looked at Killian as the silence got unbearable.

“Alright, guys.” Killian looked them over for a second, eyes landing on Emma, “team,” he corrected. “Let's play ball!”

The boys all screamed as they took their positions.

“Swan, left field!” Emma nodded and made her way over to where she approximated left field might be. From the laughs that followed, she figured she was wrong. “More to your left, Swan.” She did what she was told, looking at Killian for a cue that she was in the right place. When he smiled and nodded, she stopped and let out a deep breath.

She shuffled her feet as Killian tossed the ball in his hand for a few moments before stepping up to the plate.

“Swan, catch this and throw it to second!” Robin waved her glove at her from second base.

“Jones, why?” Will groaned.

“She's not going to catch it, Jones!” Squints punctuated the accusation with a stomp of his foot.

“She's a square, Jones. The girl's a square!” That was clearly Sneezy, as he sneezed between sentences.

“Hey,” everyone turned to look at Liam when he spoke. “Killian brought her here for a reason. I'm sure she'll be great.” He sent Emma an encouraging smile over his shoulder, and she smiled back in appreciation.  

Liam seemed to shut everyone up, and there were only inaudible grumbles as everyone took their places and turned their attention to home plate, where their captain waited to get the game started.

David pitched the ball, which Killian hit easily. It landed right next to where Emma stood in the field. If Emma could catch, it would've been easy. But Emma did not know how to catch, so she watched it fall to the ground.

“Swan, what the hell?” Will was the first to comment.

“I knew it.” Squints sighed.

“You didn't even try!” David chimed in.

“What was that, sister?” Grumpy crossed his arms.

“I told you, Jones!” Sneezy’s comment followed his brother’s.

Emma watched the group of boys switch their gazes between Killian and her.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, guys.” Killian jogged over to Emma in the field. “Hey, Swan, you okay?” He kept his voice down so only she could hear it.

“I- um, I don't know how to catch. I was learning. The glove went into my eye, and that's how I got my black eye.”

Killian nodded in understanding.

“Just hold your glove out, and I'll take care of getting the ball there.”

“Yeah, okay.” Emma dropped her gaze to her glove.

Killian turned to head back to the plate when he noticed Emma didn't exactly look confident.

He lifted her chin so their eyes met. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Emma nodded.

“Just keep your glove out. I promise you'll catch it.”

“Okay. I'll do it.” She smiled at him, causing him to smile back. And then another realization hit her as Killian went to head back to home plate once again. “Killian, wait!”

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“I don't know how to throw either.” Killian watched her cheeks turn pink as she blushed in embarrassment.

Avoiding Killian's eyes, she noticed Liam watching his brother help her out with approval. She took her attention away from Liam and put it back on Killian.

“Hey, hey” he started softly and gently. “You think too much.”

“What?”

“You know how to throw.” Killian looked confident.

“I really don’t.” She pulled the bill on her hat down slightly.

“Sure you do. You just need a coach who knows what he’s doing.”

She looked at him skeptically.

Killian crossed his arms in amusement. “I bet you get straight A's and stuff, don't you?”

“I got a B once. Well, it was an A-, but it should've been a B.” She felt embarrassment wash over her. Why was her achievement in school suddenly a bad thing?

Killian sighed, but it wasn't condescending. “You're killing me, Swan.” He paused. “Alright. Well, this is baseball. You need to stop thinking and just,” he took his baseball cap off, ran his hand through his hair, then put the cap back on, “have fun.”

“I am having fun,” she retorted defensively.

“If you were having fun, you would've caught the ball.”

“There's got to be more to it than that.”

Killian thought for a moment before moving to stand behind her rather than across from her.

“Okay, Swan, don't jump. I'm going to take your hand for a minute.”

“Okay,” she croaked out, barely a whisper.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and raised it over her head until her hand was behind her head. She was too young to understand the reason she instantly broke out into goosebumps at his touch, but she would look back later and realize that she felt sparks at that moment.

“You just raise your arm like this,” he positioned her hand until it was at the highest point in an arc, “and when your hand gets to here, just let go.”

“Just let go,” she repeated.

“That's all there is to it.” He let her arm drop as he moved so he was facing her again. “You can do it. Just have fun, and just let go.” He smiled at her before heading back to his position. Emma looked at the glove on her hand as she extended her arm out.

“About time, Jones. My clothes are going out of style.”

“They already are, Squints. Shut up.”

David doubled over with laughter as Killian lined up his stance.

“Ready, Swan?” Killian yelled from home plate.

“Yeah!”

She watched Killian throw the ball into the air, then heard the crack of the bat as he hit it. Next thing she knew, the ball was in her glove. He was right. She just had to stop thinking so much.

She beamed with the realization that she can actually catch a ball when she heard Robin yelling her way.

“Over here, Swan!” His glove was over his head. She pulled her arm back, brought her arm forward and just let go. And Robin caught it just a couple feet before the base.

“I knew she could do it!” Liam gave her a thumbs up as the other boys cheered for her.

“Alright. She's alright.” Will smiled approvingly.

“Told you so, man.” Killian smirked.

“Alright, team,” David shouted, “let's play ball!”

------

Emma had just made it through her first game on the sandlot.

“Wait, Killian.” She jogged the couple feet to catch up to him when he stopped on his way jogging to his house.

“Aye?”

“Why did you bring me in the game? I’m not stupid. I know the rest of the guys didn’t want me there. And I know Scarlet was just pushing your buttons when he suggested,” Emma trailed off so as to not actually repeat Will’s idea that there might be something more to the new friendship.

Killian smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He let the thought linger for a moment before countering the idea. “I know what it’s like to be the new kid. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not from around here.” Emma laughed as he emphasized his very British accent.

“The thought may have crossed my mind.”

“Well, you were new..” There was more to that. They both knew it. “And besides, we needed a ninth man,” he paused, “or woman, I guess.”

“Thanks, Killian. I…” Emma stopped mid-sentence and decided to leave the emotions off the field. “It just means a lot.”

“Of course, Swan.”

-----

As the summer went on, Emma and Killian increasingly snuck away from the group to play catch by themselves. As much as they loved the full-team games, they realized more and more how nice it was to spend time just the two of them.

“So how did you get so good at this?” Emma threw the ball, and it landed directly in Killian's glove.

“At what?”

“You know,” Emma gestured between them, “this.” Killian laughed and raised his eyebrows for clarification. “How did you learn to play baseball?”

“Well, baseball didn't entirely catch on in the U.K.”

Emma held out her glove. He threw her the ball, which she caught. She still felt a surge of pride whenever she caught a baseball. Emma held out the hand holding the baseball in question, silently asking if Killian was ready for her throw. He motioned for her to keep it and walked to a tree in the clearing and sat, leaning against it. Emma followed.

“When I was young, around 4, my father started dating a woman, even though he was still married to my mum. But this woman, she was married and involved with a man with access to much of London's financial assets. And with money comes power.” Emma watched as Killian stared at the ground throughout his story. “When the man found out about the affair, he paid off some detectives and government officials. My father got into a lot of trouble for nothing really, since you can't really get arrested for cheating on your wife. Anyway, he fled to escape the charges.” Killian let his head rest against the tree, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. After taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at Emma. “He left one night and never came back. My mum was ill at the time. If she hadn't recovered, I don't know where I'd have ended up.”

“Hey,” Emma said gently, “you don't have to tell me.” She was no stranger to the sob story, what with parents who left her on the side of a highway when she was barely more than a year old. She didn’t like to dwell on her own past, so if Killian didn’t want to share, she’d absolutely respect that.

“No. It's - it's okay. My mum got better. Even though we were too young, Liam and I still got part-time jobs while she recovered. We knew a couple people in our apartment complex willing to hire us to help us out. When we saved enough, she moved us here.”

“To Storybrooke?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “It was unheard of. My father would never find us here. And it's a small town. My mum just wants Liam and me to be happy and have a real childhood. She still feels bad I was working at 7 years old.”

“So where does baseball come in?”

“Liam is only three years older than me, but I idolized him growing up. He was more of a father to me than my real dad ever was. Liam - he came home from school with a baseball, and he taught me to play. He learned at school, and I learned from him. We played, just the two of us, for months. Then I met Robin and David. I’ve always felt - I don’t know - different from everyone else. Liam and I would never be like other kids, even though our mum recovered. But when we hung out with Robin and David, I learned that baseball was universal. No matter our beginnings, all that mattered was what was on the field. I’m not a near-orphan who started working at 7. When I play baseball, I’m a baseball player, same as everyone else.” By the end of his story, his eyes had moved from Emma’s to the distance, and he stared at the horizon as he spoke. He only returned his gaze to Emma’s after he was done talking.

Emma smiled at him. “And look at you now.”

“Look at us now.” Killian smiled back at her and nodded toward the ball in her glove, “you appear to be a natural.” She laughed, and Killian looked at her meaningfully. “I don't mean to upset you, Swan, but you're part of the team.”

-----

Private games of catch became a regular thing for Emma and Killian. Every so often, they'd escape to play and talk while getting to know each other.

“Who's your favorite player?”

“What?” Emma threw the ball back to Killian. He caught it easily.

“Baseball -- who's your favorite player?”

“Um.” Emma held up a hand to signal him to wait to throw it. Killian raised his eyebrows.

“You don't have a favorite player?” he asked in disbelief.

“I - uh, I've never seen a real game.” Her voice was quiet with embarrassment.

“Really? Never seen a real game?! You're killing me, Swan! They're on TV all summer.”

“My last foster home didn't have a TV. And the group home I stayed at between families certainly couldn't afford a TV.” She stared at a strand of hair between her fingers.

She was expecting Killian to apologize for her past or to mention how bad he feels for her. To Emma's delight, he didn't linger on her history. “You have to come over and watch one!”

“What?” Emma laughed. She was so used to people treating her differently when they learned about the conditions in her group homes and foster families, but Killian was more concerned with getting her to see a game. It was refreshing.

“Come over! We'll watch whatever game is on now.” He held his hand out to her. She took it and he led them to his house. When they got inside, Liam was already on the couch watching baseball.

“Hey, Emma. Hey, little brother.”

“Hi, Liam,” Emma smiled at him as she sat on the couch at Killian's signal.

“Younger brother,” Killian muttered under his breath as he sat right next to Emma.

“What game is on?”

“Red Sox-Yankees.”

“Ooh,” Killian leaned forward, closer to the TV. “Swan, this is a great game to start with.”

Liam looked their way. “First baseball game?” he asked. Emma nodded. “Killian's right. This is a great start. This is one of the biggest rivalries in baseball.”

“Check these guys out, Swan! I want to be just like them when I get older.”

“You will,” Emma said. You're the best player on the team. Like, you're way better than the rest of us.” Killian's cheeks were tinged pink and the tips of his ears burned red as a result of her compliment. She found she liked having that effect on him. Emma tried to keep her eyes trained on the game, but she couldn't quite help it as her gaze repeatedly landed on Killian.

“Hey, Killy,” Liam started. Killian grumbled at the nickname. “What do you say we take Emma to a game this summer?”

Both Killian’s and Emma's eyes lit up.

“That'd be awesome, Liam! She'd love it!”

“You guys don't have to do that.” Emma didn't want them taking her because they felt bad for her.

“We want to, Emma,” Liam assured “You're one of us.”

“Would you come, Swan?” Killian looked at her with such hope in his blue eyes.

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, okay. That would be amazing.”

Liam told her, “I'll talk to your parents later to work out a good day to go.”

“Thanks, guys. I'm really, really excited!”

“It'll be a pleasure to have you with us, Emma.”

“You'll love baseball even more going to an actual, major league game.” It was clear Killian had such a deep love for the game. Emma was fascinated by his infatuation with baseball. She was delighted to see him so excitable and passionate. “Swan?”

She snapped out of her thoughts. “Yeah?” Emma stared at her lap. That clearly wasn’t the first time he tried to get her attention.

“Do you still want to watch the game?” She had totally been watching him watch the game rather than the television screen itself.

“Yeah, totally.”

Killian seemed satisfied with that, pointing to the screen at different moments, explaining to her who the players were and giving their stats. And in the corner of her eye, Emma noticed Liam watching the two of them interact. He always had this look on his face like he knew something no one else did. Emma shook it off and turned back to the screen, paying attention so she'd understand all Killian's explanations. Once she really got into it, she found herself really engrossed in the game. She was able to understand some of the terms for the plays, and she even started calling them toward the last couple innings. Killian looked immensely proud, which made her even happier with herself. In the end, Emma loved watching the game, and was really looking forward to getting to go to a real, live game with the brothers Jones.

-----

Killian was always down for a game of baseball.

He would've played ball all day, all night, rain, shine, tidal wave - whatever. However, the other kids were not so willing to play when the temperature and humidity partnered to make it feel well over 100 degrees. But of all the things the group ever did besides baseball, going to the pool was what he tolerated best.

On the days it was too hot for the rest of them, there was nothing the group loved more than spending the day at the Storybrooke community pool. And Killian was happy to join his friends there if he absolutely had to leave the sandlot.

It was Emma's first time at the pool with her new friends, and they were all having the greatest time swimming around, splashing each other, and trying to outdo each other's wacky jumps. Well, all the kids were in the pool but Eric.

“What's Eric's deal?” Emma swam over to the wall Killian was leaning against. Killian glanced in Eric's direction, but Eric paid no mind to his fellow teammates.

“He only comes to the pool to stare at Ariel.” Killian chuckled and crossed his arms.

“Who's Ariel?”

Killian pointed at a redhead sitting in a lifeguard chair. “She's here every day, all day. I've never seen her anywhere but watching over this pool.”

Emma looked back at Eric. He looked absolutely smitten. He was sitting on a pool chair, knees to his chest. His chin rested on his knees as he stared at the object of his affection.

“He doesn’t know how to swim,” Killian revealed. “Sometimes he comes in as far as he can stand. But most of the time, he just does this.”

Will swam up next to Emma and Killian and followed their gazes. “Hey, Squints! You going to come in or what?”

Eric glared at Will, then glanced back at the lifeguard. She was smiling, probably laughing at the scene below. With a loud huff, Eric stood up, took his glasses off and put them on his towel, and walked towards the diving board.

“Squints, what the hell are you doing?” Killian's face dropped with concern as Eric made his way onto the board.

“Oi, mate! You're going to fall off the board without your glasses!” Robin shoved himself against the wall between Emma and Killian.

Eric shook his head and took a tentative step forward.

“Eric, stop!” Emma screamed.

“You can’t swim, Squints!” Killian reminded him.

He looked in the general direction of the group, unable to see clearly without his glasses, and smiled. “Trust me.” And with three more steps forward, he cannonballed into the water.

“Did he tell anyone about this?” Liam stared down the group as if someone knew something.

The whole group shook their heads no. There were a couple voices shouting, “no,” and Sneezy, well, sneezed.

“Guys, he hasn't come up yet!” Grumpy yelled.

Emma yelled “help” to get the attention of the lifeguard. Hearing her cries, Ariel dove into the pool, spotting Eric at the bottom and swimming down to grab him. She pulled Eric up, and noticing he was unconscious, she laid him on the side of the pool and started administering CPR.

“Oh, god.” Emma climbed out of the pool and stood above Eric. The rest of the group was quick to follow, and they soon formed a circle around where Ariel was still trying to get Eric to breathe again.

“Come on, Squints. You've gotta pull through.” Killian looked as worried as she felt.

“Come on, Squints,” David added.

“Wake up! Breathe, would you?” Sneezy yelled at Eric as if that would make him regain consciousness.

“He looks real bad,” Will chimed in.

Scooting slightly closer to Killian, without thinking, Emma grasped his hand. He gave her hand a squeeze as they shared a glance before returning their attention back on Eric.

With no sign of improvement thus far, Ariel moved on and started to perform mouth-to-mouth on Eric.

“Lucky bastard gets to make out, and he's not even conscious,” Grumpy grumbled. There were a few chuckles, but it was hard to laugh while Eric was still ghostly pale.

As Ariel continued breathing for him, Eric opened his eyes and winked at his friends out of Ariel's view.

“He's okay!” David couldn't hold back his reaction.

When Ariel went down for her next breath, Eric grabbed her head and kept it pressed to his as he kissed her.

There was a chorus of “ooooh” from the boys and a gasp from Emma. When Ariel ripped herself out of Eric's grasp, she started shouting, banning the group for the rest of the summer, when they all grabbed their towels and took off. Laughing along the way, Emma ran right along with them. When they got back to the sandlot, Eric had his glasses back on and was receiving quite a few pats on the back from his friends.

“How long have you been planning that, man?” Liam had his arms crossed as he shook his head in amusement.

“Months,” Eric answered proudly.

There were more cheers for Eric as the group sat around and dried off in the sun.

On that day, Squints became a hero.

-----

So Ariel banned them from the pool for the summer, although she would later tell Emma she was welcome to come back as long as she left the team on the sandlot. Girls have to stick together. After all, females felt terribly outnumbered in this town. But despite Ariel’s initial anger, she was witness to how the group was more like family than just friends and teammates. She saw they had something special. The boys may have been banned from the pool for the rest of the summer, but they had to walk past the pool on the way to the nearest 7-11 for Slurpees and candy. And every time Grumpy ran out of bubble gum or Scarlet decided he was going to mix all the Slurpee flavors and down the largest size in less than 2 minutes to see how bad his brain freeze could get, the team went by the pool, right behind Ariel’s lifeguard chair. And Emma couldn’t help but chuckle as she noticed Ariel turn toward them and smile at Eric every time they walked by.

-----

The team was in the middle of gameplay when all the boys suddenly stopped playing. Emma stopped herself mid-run on her way to third and looked around at all her friends.

“What’s going on, guys?”

Liam, who was standing next to her as shortstop, pointed to the fence behind home plate and just said, “Cassidy.” She looked up at him for clarification, and he, sensing it wasn’t enough, looked down at his newest team member. “That’s Neal Cassidy. Killian used to play ball with him. They got into a fight one time when Cassidy said some things about,” he trailed off. “Well, he said some things about our father, and Killian just couldn’t brush it off.”

“He never told me about Neal,” Emma said quietly.

“He’d rather forget about Cassidy.” Emma caught Liam watching Killian. “Ever wonder why we play in some open clearing rather than a real diamond?” Emma shook her head; she hadn’t really thought about it before. “Cassidy is rich. His family has tons of money. His friends get to play on the real field in town. After their fight, Cassidy made sure Killian wouldn’t be able to play on a real field again.” Before Emma could say anything, Liam continued, “ever notice that scar on the back of Killian’s left hand? He busted his hand open on Cassidy’s face. Needed 16 stitches. And there’s the one on his cheek from where Cassidy got him back -- 7 stitches. The two really went at it. They hit each other real good, kept punching even when they both fell to the ground. It took six of us to break it up.”

“Wow. I didn’t know.”

“Killian and I and our mum -- we might not have much, but Killian is proud of what we do have. He’s proud of the life we have, and I know he’ll never forgive our father for what he did.” He looked at her as if to ask if she knew what Brennan had done. She nodded in response. He continued, “and he’ll always defend his family and friends.”

To his credit, Killian did not approach Neal. It was the latter who initiated. All the boys, still in their places on the field, groaned in unison as Neal and his posse made their way into the sandlot. David and Robin were the first to head over to Killian and stand on either side of him. Will, Eric, and the twins all took spots. Emma looked over at Liam as she tentatively walked toward the forming wall of boys. Liam followed her.

“Gee, Killian, how are you supposed to get better when you’re stuck playing with a bunch of rejects?”

“Shut your mouth, Pan,” Killian said through clenched teeth.

The kid in the middle - Emma assumed that was Neal - murmured something after that, but it was unintelligible.

“What’d you say, Cassidy?” Will asked.

“I said you shouldn't even be allowed to touch a baseball. Except for little Jones, you're all an insult to the game.”

Grumpy chimed in, “oh, yeah?”

Sneezy added a sarcastic, “you think so?”

Killian spoke up next. “Come on! We'll take you on right here, right now!”

Robin yelled, “come on,” as the rest of the guys shouted in agreement.

“We play on a real diamond, Jones.” The leader - Neal - spoke again.

“You ain't good enough to lick the dirt off our cleats,” Will crossed his arms.

“Watch it, jerk,” the tall kid - Pan - stepped toward Will.

“Shut up, idiot,” Will stomped his foot.

Emma stood there as the boys passed insults back and forth, some boys joining in with “oohs” as the insults got harsher and harsher.

“Moron!”

“Scab-eater!”

“Butt-sniffer!”

“Pus-licker!”

“You bob for apples in the toilet, and you like it!”

Neal laughed as he noticed Emma for the first time; it was a jarring sound against the backdrop of exchanged insults. “You got a girl on your team? Makes sense since you all play like girls!”

Everyone got real quiet at that. For a group of adolescent boys, there was no greater insult. Cassidy had crossed a line. It was clear no one had an answer to that…

...until Killian spoke up, getting nose-to-nose with Cassidy as he asserted, “you wish you played like Swan!”

“Yeah, right.” The boys next to Emma all laughed; Neal didn’t have a good comeback. Emma would’ve laughed, too, if she wasn’t still bug-eyed from Killian standing up to Neal to defend her.

Killian smirked as his team cheered his apparent victory in the insult war. He winked at Emma.

“Tomorrow at our field, noon,” Neal interrupted the celebration.

“We’ll be there,” Killian got even more in Neal’s face. Neal narrowed his eyes, gaze lingering on Emma as he smiled mischievously, before gesturing for his team to follow him away from the sandlot.