#sailingcaptainswan

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.

The team didn’t have a game today. Even the sandlot crew couldn’t play baseball everyday. So with no game tying up the day, Killian invited Emma over for the whole day. She got up early so she could walk over and maximize the amount of fun they could have before she had to go home for the night. After throwing on a tank top and an oversized plaid shirt and jean shorts she can’t really wear for playing ball, she ran downstairs to walk to Killian’s. Ingrid and Arthur had already left for work, and they knew Emma would be headed to the Jones’ for the day. She grabbed the house key from the end table near the front door and practically bounced out the door, only to run into someone on the porch. She apologized as she bent down to pick up the key, only to find the other person had beat her to it.

“Thanks,” she took it, her gaze finally landing on the other form. “Killian? I was just leaving to go to your house.”

He scratched the back of his right ear. “I thought I’d walk you.”

“How long have you been here?” She turned to lock the front door before pocketing her key.

“Not long. Few minutes maybe.”

“We never agreed on a time.”

“I would’ve sat here until you were ready.”

“Really?” She gestured in front of them as a cue to start walking as they talked.

He shrugged. “It’s a nice morning.”

The two walked in silence for a few feet before Emma spoke up, looking at Killian as she did. “You know, this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you without a baseball cap on other than that time at the pool.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, well, no game.”

“No jersey either.” He was wearing a teal t-shirt and jeans. It was a change from his usual baseball jerseys and black athletic shorts, but not an unwelcome sight.

“They’re in the laundry.” Emma chuckled. Killian smiled. “How long can you stay?”

“Ingrid said to be home by 10:30 since it’s still summer and I don’t have to be up for school or anything.”

“We can work with that.”

“What are we going to do today?”

“Whatever we want.”

“Great!” Emma linked her arm with Killian’s as they walked the rest of the way to his house sharing jokes and laughter. ----- “So, Swan, where would you like to start?”

“Um, could we use your swing set? I’ve never had a swing set before.”

“As you wish.” He led her to the backyard, and Emma sat on one of the swings. Killian sat on the swing to her left. Emma found it so easy to just talk to Killian about absolutely nothing as they swung side-by-side. And after they decided they’d had enough swinging, they played pirates with the monkey bars and the little shelter above the slide. Even Liam came out to play with them a little. Emma and Killian hid out near the slide while Liam approached their “ship” from above the monkey bars, and they took turns dueling with foam swords Liam found in the basement, all while making sure Liam didn’t fall between the bars. They didn’t care how stupid they looked or sounded, they were just so happy to be playing.

By the time Liam had to go to work, it was only a couple hours before lunch time. Killian brought Emma up to his room where he shared his pillowcase secret stash of Apollo bars with Emma. He stocked up after he found out they were her favorite. They sat on his bed eating their respective chocolate bars.

“Your room is so cool.” Her eyes studied the baseball wallpaper and his huge baseball card collection on his dresser. Even his lamp was baseball-themed. His bed sheets, however, were pirate-themed with little skulls all over them.

“My mum let me pick out everything.” He glanced around his own room, smiling.

“I hope I get to decorate my room like this one day.”

“You will, Swan.” She met his gaze. “Especially with Ingrid and Arthur. I think they’ll be it for you.”

“I have some pictures up on my wall, but nothing like this.”

“How do you want your room to look?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe something with books or art supplies. Maybe Ingrid would let me paint my own room.”

“I think she would.”

“And Starry Night sheets. That would be cool.”

They sat in comfortable silence as the chocolate bars disappeared. Killian threw their wrappers away and grabbed something from his bookshelf.

“Here,” he handed her two books.

“What’s this?”

“These are my favorite books. I think you’ll like them.”

She read the titles: Peter Pan and The Princess Bride. She hadn’t read either before.

“Thanks, Killian. I’m excited to read these.”

“I want to know what you think.” Emma nodded in acknowledgement. She was always excited at the idea of new books. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Does Liam still have the Nintendo hooked up in his room?”

“Aye.”

“MarioKart?” She smirked.

“You’re on, Swan.” ----- Over microwaved chicken nuggets and fries, Emma decided to tell Killian about her unwanted visitor last week.

“Killian?”

“Yeah,” he got out with a mouthful of fries.

“Neal came over the other day.”

Killian froze.

Emma shook her head. “He asked me to join his team.” She sipped her lemonade as she waited for Killian to react. He just blinked.

“I said, no, obviously.”

“You did?”

“Does that surprise you?”

Killian put down the chicken nugget in his hand. “Well, no. But he gave you the chance to play on a real field.”

“I like the sandlot.”

“His team can make you better.”

“You make me better.” Killian blinked rapidly again. “I wouldn’t even be playing if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re good, Swan. You just needed a push.”

“You guys are my friends. I don’t abandon my friends.”

“I - thank you, Swan.”

“Neal and his friends aren’t the kind of friends I want.”

“Don’t tell Liam I said this, but Neal’s a bloody wanker.” They both laughed. “I can’t believe he tried to steal you.”

“He’s just bitter I stole home when he could never.” Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“Seriously, Swan, you could have said, yes, if you wanted.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to. I’m happy where I am.”

“Good.” ----- Emma and Killian continued playing until Killian’s mom and Liam came home from their respective jobs. Together, the four of them helped make potato chip-crusted chicken, asparagus, and mac and cheese.

“Ms. Alice, this is so good,” Emma complimented the dinner she was trying very hard not to just inhale like a vacuum.

“We all made it together, love. It wouldn’t be as delicious if you didn’t help.” Emma smiled at the red-headed mother of her best friend. “And,” Alice leaned in closer to Emma, “you are more than welcome to come over for dinner any time you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, really trying to make sure how much that meant came through her voice.

“Any friend of Killian’s and Liam’s is alright in my book, especially if there’s another woman to balance out all this testosterone in this neighborhood.”

Liam and Killian looked at each other. Emma laughed.

“Do you cook together every night?” Emma looked between the three Joneses.

“Sometimes, but mostly on special occasions.” Liam looked between Killian and Emma as he took a large bite of mac and cheese to hide his smirk. Alice saw through that and elbowed her son lightly, eliciting a snort from Liam.

If Killian knew what was going on, he pretended not to. “My mum is a fantastic cook.”

“Yeah. She is.”

“Thank you, you two. Emma, if you can stay a little longer, I can make Killian’s favorite fudge brownies for dessert.”

“I just have to be home before 10:30, Ms. Alice.”

“Perfect. When you and Killian are done eating, you can go hang out more while I make the brownies.” Emma and Killian nodded their agreement.

“Thanks so much.”

“Any time, Emma. I’m glad to have you here.”

“Well,” Liam starts, “I’m finished my dinner.”

“Great,” his mom smiles, “you can do dishes so Emma and Killian can enjoy themselves.” Killian tried to hide his laughter as Liam frowned. Emma took another bite of chicken as she took in the family in front of her.

Both Killian and Emma rushed to finish eating so they could have more time to hang out together. When they finished, Emma offered to do her own dishes even though she knew Killian’s mom would never let her. When, as predicted, Alice said “absolutely not” to her guest, Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and brought her to his backyard.

“What are we doing out here?” They were still holding hands.

“It’s a clear night. It’s dark. We should get lots of fireflies.”

“Fireflies?”

“Have you ever caught fireflies before?” He asked her, tightening his hand on hers.

“No.”

“You’re killing me, Swan. Okay, I’ll teach you.” He glanced around his yard until he found a group of fireflies under a tree. He led her over there before dropping her hand.

“They’re so pretty.” Emma took in the sight before her, dark blue sky, bordering on black, with balls of yellowish-silver lights flickering and flying all around the space in front of her.

Killian leaned down to the base of the tree and grabbed a jar. “Can you hold this while I show you what to do?”

“Sure.” She took the jar and he adjusted her hands so the opening was facing him.

“Okay, Swan. You have to come up to one gently with one hand,” he said quietly as he demonstrated. “Then, when you’re close, bring your other hand to the other side of the firefly quickly so it doesn’t get away. But don’t clap your hands or you’ll squish it. Cup your hands together.” He brought his closed hands closer to her so she could see the light peeking from between his fingers. “And then,” he stopped talking as he guided the bug into the jar Emma held, covering the top with his hand. He held the jar up to show Emma.

“Wow.”

“Can you grab the lid?” She knelt down to where he got the jar and picked up a lid with lots of holes poked through it. Killian put the lid on the jar carefully. “When we catch more, the jar is going to be full of them. And then when we’re done, we let them go.”

“Can I try catching one?”

“Of course!”

Killian held the jar as Emma came up to a firefly with one hand, and brought her other hand down quickly. She caught one on the first try, but she immediately let it go as the light crawling feeling freaked her out. She was happy it was dark so Killian couldn’t see her blush.

“It takes a couple tries.”

“Yeah,” she barely got out.

“Try again. You can also come at one with both hands if you’re gentle. Nudge it into your hands.” She nodded as she took a breath. She knew to expect the crawling this time, but she missed her first firefly as she clasped her hands too slowly. However, Emma was a fast learner, and it only took her one more try to get one and keep it between her cupped hands. “Well done, Swan!”

“That was so cool!”

Killian approached her with his hand covering the top of the jar. “Put it in here.” They worked together to get the firefly in the jar without either of the two escaping, and Killian was fast to get the lid on. “Look at that, Swan. We have two now.”

“This is amazing.” She was mesmerized by the flying lights.

“The closest thing to magic.” Emma chewed on her bottom lip as she looked back to the group of fireflies.

“Your turn.”

“Go ahead and get another one. I can wait.” Emma nodded and moved closer to the bugs. Between the two of them, they caught 14 fireflies before the small jar became crowded. They spent about 15 minutes watching them move around the jar, lights going on and off throughout the small glass container, before Alice called them in for brownies.

“We should let them go before we go in.” Killian nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to do the honors?” He held out the jar to her.

“Yeah! Thanks!” She took it and positioned the opening toward where they caught the bugs. Making eye contact with Killian once more, he nodded to cue her to open it. She carefully worked the lid open before watching the fireflies pour out to fly free once more. Emma thought they looked like little stars in the dark night. They were little stars they could catch and hold. She put the jar back at the base of the tree and walked with Killian to the back door. “Thanks, Killian. That was…”

“Magical,” he finished for her.

“Yeah. Magical.” ----- The group only played one night game a year, and it was on the Fourth of July.

They could only play this night because the sandlot had no lights. But on the Fourth of July, the field was lit up as the entire town of Storybrooke lit fireworks to celebrate.

They played their best then because they all felt like the big leaguers under the lights of some great stadium. Emma was willing to bet that Killian felt like that all the time. They all knew he was gonna go on to bigger and better games because every time they stopped to watch the sky on those nights like regular kids, he was there to call them back.

However, no kid could really resist the draw of fire in the sky. Emma sat on the ground and rested her head on her knees as she stared up into the sky absolutely mesmerized. She smiled as she took in the bright red bursts, followed by the golden weeping willow pattern. It was easy to lose track of time as she gazed up into the dark sky, which for this night was a perfect canvas for the colorful explosions of fire.

When Killian could no longer keep his team from being distracted by the blinding lights in reds, blues, whites, and greens, he gave into the magic himself. But this Fourth of July game was special. When his team turned their attention to the sky rather than the game, he ran over and grabbed Emma’s hand, to which she responded with a barely noticeable gasp in surprise.

“Come along, Swan,” he whispered into her ear as he tugged on her hand.

“But everyone else is here. Shouldn't we stay?” In reality, she just wanted to watch the fireworks with her friends. She'd never seen a fireworks show quite like this.

“You're killing me, Swan! Just trust me.”

Looking back at her teammates all ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the fireworks, she turned back to the kid rubbing unconscious circles onto the back of her hand and let out a quiet “okay.” He grinned. She smiled in return and followed him as he ran out of the sandlot and to his own backyard.

“Follow me.” He let go of her hand as he started climbing the biggest tree in his yard. Emma was right behind him. He crawled into a treehouse. Emma paused outside. “What’s wrong?” Killian poked his head out the hatch that served as both entrance and exit into the small dwelling.

“It says ‘no girls allowed,’” Emma pointed to a sign just above where she would climb up into the treehouse as she tried not to laugh. Even in the dark, she could sense the tips of Killian’s ears turning pink in embarrassment.

“I think I can make an exception.” He extended his hand for her. She took it and climbed into the structure. Killian scratched behind his ear as Emma looked around. “I haven’t been up here in years. Apologies for the sign.”

“It’s fine, Killian. I get it.” She pretended not to feel the sigh of relief that he let out against the back of her neck. “But it doesn’t feel particularly sturdy.” Emma shifted slightly and felt the whole structure shake a tad.

“Maybe, but I promise the view is worth the risk.” He crawled carefully to a small and crooked window cut out of the paper-thin wall. “I spent my first Fourth of July up here. The view of the fireworks is the best.”

Emma crawled over and peeked out the tiny window next to Killian. “Wow.”

Even without looking, she knew he switched to watching her instead of the fireworks.

“I didn’t even notice this when I came over.”

“It’s pretty high up. And the leaves tend to hide it. No one would see it unless they were looking for it.”

“Yeah.”

“I meant to bring you up here when you came over, but I thought I’d wait for the fireworks. It’s worth it.” Neither of them said anything for a while as they watched the fireworks. “You know, the rest of the team doesn’t even know this treehouse exists.”

Emma turned to look at him. They didn’t have much room since the window was so small. They were both overly aware of their movements and those of the other person. “Really?”

“Liam and I built this together when we got here. That’s why it’s not-so-sturdy. But he never really came up here. It was mine. I came up here to be alone and think.”

“It’s nice for that.”

“It is. And I want you to share it, too. You’re welcome any time. If you ever need some time to yourself, just know it's here. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thank you, Killian.” She hoped that thank you said much more than just the simple words themselves; she really hoped her true appreciation for the gesture came across. Emma was happy with Ingrid and Arthur, but it could still be overwhelming sometimes. She wasn't used to the whole family thing, and it could be a little suffocating never really being on her own anymore. And when school starts, she could picture herself coming up into that shaky treehouse to read or do homework. Emma looked at her friend to find he'd turned his attention back to the fireworks. She followed his lead, jumping in surprise slightly when he spoke again.

“And I’ll get rid of the sign.” They both laughed and watched the fireworks together. Emma felt entirely content sitting there with Killian. She was comfortable with his company. Something about the fireworks made her time with Killian in that treehouse even more special that night. And if Killian intertwined his fingers with Emma’s, well, he could say he was caught up in the magic. ----- “Okay, guys, last game of the summer. Make it a good one.” Killian glanced around the team huddled in a circle around him. The expressions on all their faces were somber, though they all seemed to be doing their best to hide it. It was the last day of summer before school started up, and while this was far from the last game they’d play even that week, the mood just changes with the start of school.

Killian nodded for the group to break and head to their spots on the field, and they did on his cue, like clockwork. “Swan! Over here. You’re batting first today.”

Emma stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“You improved our team this summer. You should bat first in the last game of summer.”

“Go for it, Swan.” Will gestured toward home plate. “It’s an honor. Jones doesn’t let us bat first in a game like this.”

Not finding the words, Emma nodded and switched places with Killian, who gave her a wink as they passed each other.

Emma took her stance at home plate and adjusted her new baseball cap to block out the sun. She pulled the bat up over her shoulder and braced herself for the pitch. Emma focused on the feel of the bat on her shoulder, the tight grip she had on the bat, and the ball headed her way. She heard the crack of the bat before she registered she hit the ball, and she looked in her hands to find the bat had shattered. The ball fell as the team stared.

“Whoa, Swan,” Will came over to inspect the bat himself.

“We’ve been playing with the same bat all summer. I mean, it was bound to happen,” Emma stared at the frayed wood. She looked up to find Killian running over.

“That is pretty cool, Swan. Major league players do this to their bats.”

“I mean, it’s an old bat.”

“Nolan.” David jerked his head up to look at Killian. “Run home and grab your extra bat.” David nodded, dropping his mitt and literally running off the pitcher’s mound. “Swan, you should keep it.” He put his hand on hers on the bat.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” They lingered in each other’s space for a moment, until Killian cleared his throat and let his hand drop back to his side.

“Um, yeah. Okay.” She put the bat behind home plate and off the field.

“Alright, guys,” Killian addressed the rest of the team. “Break until Nolan gets here with the bat.” The boys left their places to talk amongst themselves.

“Killian,” Emma started. He raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to come over after the game? I want to show you something.”

“Sounds great, Swan. I’ll tell Liam.” Killian ran over to his brother, then immediately back to Emma. “It’s a-go.”

“Cool.”

“Any clues to what you’re showing me?” His eyebrows bounced up and down with excitement. She laughed.

“It’s not that exciting for you. More for me.”

“It’ll be exciting for me then.”

Emma shrugged. “We’ll see.”

When they looked up, David was running back to the field, bat in hand, nearly out of breath. He handed the ball to Killian.

“Swan needs to run the bases first. She did get a home run after all.” Killian nudged Emma toward first base, and she flashed him a smile before taking off. It was a great start to the last game of summer, and the momentum lasted the whole game. They were even more carefree than usual, and the kids all played their hearts out.

----- When the team was sweating, partially sunburned, and could no longer keep the sun from their eyes, they called it a game.

“Well done, mates. Play this weekend?” Killian’s question was met with nods all around. Sneezy sneezed. “Have a great start to school, guys. Wish we could all be in the same classes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sneezy added.

“Yeah,” Grumpy chimed in gruffly, kicking the dirt at his feet.

“Liam’s in his last year of school, you lucky bastard,” Scarlet slapped Liam on the back.

“Careful what you wish for, Scarlet. Senior year means college applications and SATs and AP classes. I might not be able to play as much as I could this summer.”

“Oi, don’t talk like that, Liam.” Killian’s voice was more defensive than he probably meant it to be.

“We’ll see, little brother.”

“Younger.” The team laughed.

“See you guys around?” Emma looked at her group of friends, not wanting to separate from them for the school year.

“We all go to the same school,” David told her, “so we’ll probably run into each other.”

“Cool.”

“Alright, guys. Go get ready for school.” Killian was anxious to get some time with Emma before they would be separated by grades at school. The boys all walked - not ran, for the first time all summer - back to their houses. Emma grabbed her shattered bat in one hand and Killian’s hand in the other and took him to her house.

She said a hello to her parents before taking Killian up to her room.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“Ingrid and Arthur let me decorate my room, just like you said they would!” She was grinning ear-to-ear.

“Swan, that’s incredible! I can’t wait to see it!”

“Okay,” she bit her lip to keep from smiling even harder. “Here it is.” She opened her door to reveal her newly decorated room. She put her bat down behind her door and shifted her focus to her guest.

She got Starry Night sheets, just like she wanted. She had some pictures she drew framed and displayed across the walls, and her desk was covered in art supplies. The balls from the game they went to together were proudly sitting on Emma’s windowsill by her bed. But the coolest part of her room was the one wall in her room with no closet, no door, and no window. On that wall, she drew the sandlot. All her friends were represented. Killian stared in awe, eyes wide.

“Swan, that’s amazing.”

“I drew and painted it myself.”

“You’re so bloody talented. I knew you liked to draw, but this - this is something else.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the mural. Emma glanced over the details. She saw the moment Killian realized where he was in the painting. He was at home plate, hitting a home run, wearing a major league jersey with “Jones” written across the back. She had made his number his birthday. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, you are the best one on the team. It’s pretty accurate.” She shrugged even though he was still looking at her wall.

“How long did this take you?” He finally pulled his attention off the artwork and looked at the artist.

“I stayed up way past when I should have. I’m pretty sure Ingrid and Arthur knew, but they let me. I wanted to get it done before school.” She sat on her bed and watched Killian get closer to the wall to examine the details.

He laughed. “This is going to be on your wall forever.”

“I hope so.”

He turned around and joined her, elbows knocking together gently. He still could barely peel his eyes off the wall.

“This was the best summer of my life. I want to remember it.”

“You should be an artist.”

“I like keeping my art for fun.” He nodded in understanding.

“You’re…” he let out a breath “...incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Love it, Swan. I love it so much.”

“Thanks, Killian. This summer never would have been so amazing without you.” She looked at him. He was still looking at the wall.

“No, Swan.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve made this the best summer for me. Thank you. I found a best friend.”

“We both had pretty great summers, huh?”

“Aye. The best.”

“The best.” ----- While the group played together for many summers, Emma's first summer was the most magical. But as they continued their game for years, the kids grew up along the way.

David met a girl his first day of school that year, and the two of them started dating almost immediately.

Liam was working full-time while looking at colleges, but Emma could sense that he wanted something else.

The young teenagers grew into older teenagers, and the gang all got together for games even when school and jobs tried their hardest to separate them.

And Emma and Killian grew inseparable. As Killian got older, his brown hair darkened into black. He started to grow facial hair, which made him look much more his age as he matured. Emma loved the way his scruff was still brown, lighter than his hair, and she loved the red peeking through. But as she got closer to Killian and developed clear feelings for him, she knew she could never tell him and risk breaking up the group. For Emma, after having been sent back from foster homes one too many times she thought it was because of her, and Killian, whose father left his ailing wife and two sons to avoid criminal charges, the group was a comfort. This group of boys (and Emma) was solid. There was no danger of abandonment on the sandlot. They were a family. And to risk messing that up over a teenage crush just wasn't worth it in Emma's eyes. ------ The group spent a few more summers together, but eventually, they did all move away from the sandlot. Emma and Killian were the last to leave, actually. And this time, every time someone moved away, they didn't replace them. There was a permanent empty space where that person had been. The group remained a group, even after circumstances forced their separation.

Squints got contacts, so he no longer had to squint all the time. He actually ended up marrying Ariel, the lifeguard from that pool day. Turns out she admired the bravery of a teenager willing to do anything just to kiss her. They had a little girl and a little boy, and they spent every weekend at the pool.

Grumpy and Sneezy became miners, finding a group of five other men to work with even past retirement age. Grumpy ended up with a girl named Astrid, but they never married. It didn’t matter. She countered his grumpiness, and she called him Dreamy. Sneezy eventually found allergy medication that took care of his excessive sneezing, but the nickname followed him into mining.

Robin became a businessman at Mills Inc., eventually marrying his CEO, Regina. The two adopted a kid together, who Robin taught to play baseball, sandlot-style. Regina was dubbed “the Evil Queen” by Grumpy, a name that stuck with the rest of the group - as long as Robin wasn’t around, anyway. Roland Locksley is still young, but Killian claims he’s going to be an MLB pitcher one day.

Will stayed solo for much of his life, enjoying the single life until he became infatuated with a librarian who was tricked into coming to the bar Will frequented. After settling down with Belle, his life calmed down, too.

Liam joined the Navy - a lifelong dream. He rose to rank of captain before taking leave to spend time with a girl he met overseas. Liam, Elsa, and Killian spent every holiday together. Killian was there for every naval medal ceremony, and Liam was extremely highly decorated, so he and Killian saw a lot of each other despite the overseas distance between them.

David married his high school sweetheart. They got married their freshman year of college, and they had a baby not long after graduation. While Mary Margaret stayed home with their son, David went to the police academy and became an officer. He and Liam lorded their power over the group every chance they had. David's life ended up being fairytale perfect, and his son was Killian's biggest fan when, as predicted, he became an MLB player. Killian’s first team, the Mets, assumed he had a son because the wallpaper on his phone was little Leo Nolan, proudly wearing an official MLB Jones jersey.

Drafted right out of college to the Mets, Killian Jones moved to the city to play the game he loved. He and Emma had gotten close over the summers playing ball together. In fact, when Emma got into NYU, she and Killian decided to become roommates, seeing as NYU was exactly 24 minutes from Citi Field. Emma spent her days in journalism and sports management classes, and she attended every night game to watch Killian play baseball. It was Killian who encouraged her to take up journalism after reading one of her creative writing assignments - a written account of that first summer she spent with the group. In the big leagues, Killian started in left field, then moved to second base. Emma made signs and everything when she went to the games. And Killian made sure she kept drawing, letting her design their shared apartment.

The whole team went to every wedding, and they reunited every few years to play the occasional game of baseball in the sandlot, always picking up right where they left off. These games got larger and larger as all their families grew, and the sandlot became a place for everyone to catch up. Leo and Roland became friends, starting their own sandlot game with Eric and Ariel’s kids. They would all say the thing they were most proud to pass on to their kids was that sandlot. ------ Emma was terrified things would change when Killian got traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates. He had been slowing down in the game and striking out more, so the Mets were happy to trade him. And the Pirates were happy to sign him. However, PNC Park was way more than 24 minutes from where Emma and Killian shared an apartment.

But Killian had a contract, so with unshed tears threatening to spill, he hugged Emma goodbye in the airport with promises to “see you soon,” and, “hit lots of home runs for you.” Unable to hold back her own tears, she responded with a shaky, “you better,” and she kissed his cheek before they both turned away and went in opposite directions.

They had both known what was happening between them over the years, but they both individually decided that emotional involvement would hurt the game, so to speak. And both knew that if they turned back at this moment in the airport, they could never find the strength to walk away again. So they both went on, not looking back at the other. ----- He came to her graduation. He sat with the Swans, the foster family that decided to adopt her. After hugs from her parents, she turned to her best friend, both of them wearing matching beaming smiles.

“I'm so proud of you, Swan.” They moved in simultaneously to hug each other, the reunion long overdue. Between classes, a job, and her internship, Emma didn't even know what free time felt like anymore. And Killian was busy as part of the main lineup for the Pirates, as well as with his nice promotion to shortstop, where he excelled. But between home games, away games, training, practice, and workouts, he spent his free time sleeping. He never got used to switching time zones so often.

But all that was forgotten as the two hugged outside NYU’s stadium. Diploma in one hand, Killian took Emma's other hand as they walked behind the Swans to their car before a celebratory dinner in Emma's honor. And throughout the night, she just kept thinking how much it felt like old times. ----- “And up to bat is Pirates number 2, shortstop Killian Jones. He may be new to the Pirates, but he’s already changed the way this entire team plays. No other man could take a near-last place team and turn them into a World Series contender. What a huge loss for the Mets, trading the league’s star player when he was only in a bit of a rut.” Emma smiled to herself, proud of her best friend for everything he’s accomplished. He looked up at the media suites as he exited the dugout and practiced a couple swings. She knew he couldn’t see her, but the fact that he knew she was there made her borderline giddy. She would swear she saw him wink her way as he strutted to the left side of home plate. “And the man himself steps up to the plate,” Emma announced.

The pitch was thrown, and Emma watched Killian jerk backwards to avoid being hit by the 94-mile per hour fastball.

“And the pitch will be taken as a ball.” Emma let out a sigh of relief as she looked down and confirmed he wasn’t hit. Away from the microphone, she muttered, “jeez. You don’t have to try to take him out.” The radio reporter next to Emma laughed at her murmuring, sending her a knowing look. Emma flashed the reporter an appreciative smile as she sat up again to reach the microphone.

“And the second pitch,” she paused as Killian hit the ball impossibly high, but into the stands behind him, “will be taken for a foul. Strike one.” Sitting back as the pitcher and Killian prepare for the next pitch, she whispered to herself, quieter than before as not to be overheard again, “c’mon Killian. You’ve got this.”

When Killian stepped back up to the plate, Emma straightened her posture and got ready to get back to her job.

“The score is 4-3, the tying run is at first, two outs, and the count is 1-1 at the bottom of the 11th. A place in the World Series is at stake. Jones steps up to the plate, and this pitch is again taken as a foul. The count is now 1-2 for Pirates’ star player, shortstop Killian Jones.”

Killian took another step back and took a few practice swings. Emma held her breath as the next pitch soared straight into the zone, only to be met by Killian's bat. He followed through on the swing and watched as the ball flew.

“Jones hits the ball. And it's going, going, still going, gone,” Emma screamed into the microphone. “Goodbye home run!” Emma smiled and laughed along as the entire media suite cheered. As Killian finished rounding the bases, she took her seat again. “And Jones gets both the tying and winning runs home with an impressive home run. That's the ballgame. The final score is 4-5 Pirates after 11 innings of gameplay.” She paused so the excitement could build. “And the Pirates are going to the World Series!”

The crowd had been cheering consistently since Killian's home run, but the idea of a World Series run made the people in the stands scream even louder.

“Thanks for joining us at PNC Park tonight. We hope you'll see you soon. Drive safely everyone.” And with that, Emma's job was done. She sat back in her swivel chair as Killian signed some baseballs, mini-bats, and hats from some fans in the stands before heading to the locker room to, no doubt, shower. Emma couldn't go without seeing him, so she checked her phone while fans filed out of the stadium. The radio and tv announcers around her all left before her, and she acknowledged each of their departures as they left.

Hoping she wouldn't get kicked out for being there so late, she snuck down to the field and wandered over to home plate. Standing next to the plate, she took in the night sky in front of her, the stadium’s blinding lights still on.

“So, Swan, first woman to announce a Major League Baseball game live. I knew you could do it.”

Emma jerked around when she heard him. She couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face.

“Although, I don’t know why you went to university for journalism all those years when you were perfectly capable of calling a baseball game at 15.” He paused for a moment before adding, “still impressive nonetheless.”

“Well, I’m no shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates.” Emma watched Killian’s tongue dart out to wet his lips. Her gaze dropped to her shoes in the dirt as she pretended not to be affected.

Apparently, he had the same goal in mind. Avoiding the topic on both their minds, he said “I know I made you work extra tonight. Sorry about that, by the way.” He adjusted the strap of his gear bag.

“Yeah,” she fiddled with the ends of some of her hair that fell over her shoulder. “You know I don't get paid extra for extra innings, right?” She teased. He laughed.

“I really am proud of you, Swan. They started you on a really high-stakes game.” He paused. “And they really should pay you extra for those two innings.” They shared timid smiles, making it known to each other that they were both aware of their connection and both unsure whether to acknowledge it.

“I could never have gotten here without you. All those years ago, you took a chance on a teenage girl who didn’t even know how to play catch.”

Killian shrugged, but the meaning behind his words was anything but casual. “I just introduced her to the greatest game in the universe. She did the rest on her own.” Emma could see the pride in his bright blue eyes - pride for her.

“You know, PNC Park is a lot bigger than the sandlot.”

“Aye. That it is.”

“You certainly seem right at home.” Killian shrugged again, the tips of his ears tinged light pink. “Think you’ll stick around on the Pirates another season?”

“I hope so. I like it here. And I quite fancy the Pirates’ new announcer.” He scratched that spot behind his ear, just like he used to do when they were teenagers. It was in this moment - looking at Killian and seeing the same kid from the sandlot - that she made her decision.

Emma smiled and replied, “good,” before reaching up and removing her baseball cap, tossing it behind her. She tangled her fingers in Killian’s hair, still wet from his post-game shower, and pulled his face to hers, though pull may have been an overstatement, as he went right along with it without complaint. The moment their lips touched was magical. It was better than playing baseball with fireworks as a light source. It was better than stealing home. It was better than hitting a grand slam. They pulled away for air, but they kept their foreheads pressed together. Her eyes were closed as he opened his and brought his fingers up to his lips, which were still tingling.

“That was…” Emma interrupted herself with a short laugh. She opened her eyes and her green ones met his blue ones. She bit her lip as he sighed in contentment and disbelief. Killian brought a hand to her cheek, caressing her face so his thumb landed in the dimple in her chin.

“Let’s play ball!” David screamed as the team ran onto the baseball diamond for the game against Neal and his posse.

Neal’s team was already there, all the boys in their positions on the field, throwing a baseball around between them. The home team seemed visibly put off by the screams announcing the arrival of the team from the sandlot.

Killian led his team to an area near the bench that would serve as the dugout for this game.

“Okay, team. David’s leadoff. Then Scarlet’s the 2-spot. Liam is the 3-hole. I’m the cleanup. Robin is the 5 position. Grumpy - spot 6. Sneezy - spot 7. Swan, you’re batting 8. And Squints, take us home as the 9 player.” The team all nodded. There were a couple “okay”s, an “aye, aye, Captain,” and Sneezy sneezed. “And Scarlet, you'll pitch.” Will saluted Killian and Killian dismissed the group to go sit on the bench.

David stepped up to the plate. His teammates on the bench took in the field in front of him. David made a show out of taking some practice swings and sauntering up to the base.

“Hurry up, batter,” the tall catcher - Pan, Emma remembered - pushed David.

“Relax, Pan,” Neal, who was on the pitcher’s mound, yelled. “It's gonna be a short game, and I gotta get home for lunch.”

David took his position and nodded to Neal that he was ready. First was a swing and a miss.

Pan snickered, “that’s one!”

David hit the next pitch - a double. The sandlot team cheered as Will ran after the bat to where David tossed it before he ran. Will hit a single. Liam hit a double. Killian was on deck.

“Spread back, guys. Little Jonesy is good,” Neal sent his team back further out on the field to prepare for a big hit from Killian.

Eric leaned over to Emma and whispered, “he’s got this,” before retreating back to his own space and pushing up his glasses.

Neal released the first pitch, and it almost hit Killian. Emma saw Liam clench his fists at second as he watched his brother barely move out of the way of the ball. Emma could see Killian’s jaw clench from her place on the bench.

Will was the only one to speak up. “Oi! Watch it, Cassidy!”

“Shut up, Scarlet.” Neal didn’t take his gaze off Killian, who was taking a couple breaths before stepping back up to the plate.

“Not my problem if the only way you think you can win is by taking out Jones!”  

“Scarlet!” Neal barked, glaring at Will on third. Will shrugged in response, earning laughter from his team in the dugout. Neal shook it off, narrowing his eyes at Killian, and throwing another pitch, which collided with Killian’s bat. Neal’s teammates hit the fence as the ball soared over it for a home run. Killian ran the bases and arrived back to the bench to high-fives from his team.

On deck was Robin, who hit a single. The twins both got out - Grumpy with a flyout and Sneezy with a strikeout. Emma hit the ball with enough distance to get her to first, but Robin tried getting two bases out of it and got tagged out at third. Even with the three outs, the group of kids from the sandlot ended their first half an inning with 4 runs.

Neal’s team managed to score 1 in the bottom of the first, but that 1 was never going to be enough, and both teams knew it.

By the time the fifth inning came around, Neal was in danger of taking Grumpy’s nickname from him. The top half of the fifth, Emma led off with a triple, and Eric got her home with a sacrifice fly. But that was the only easy out the other team got the entire half inning. David, Will, Liam, Killian, and Robin all hit easily, quickly making their way around the bases. Grumpy and Sneezy both hit singles, which Emma followed with another triple. It appeared she figured out Neal’s pitching style. She smirked at Neal from third when he kept looking back at her.

At that moment, Emma made up her mind: She was going to steal home.

Emma glanced at Killian and the rest of her teammates in the dugout for support. When they figured out her intention, they all got quiet. In that moment, Neal looked over to the dugout to see why they went silent, and Emma ran. Neal’s guard was down, he was relaxed, and he was entirely unprepared to throw the ball. He didn’t think to turn back to Emma until she was halfway home. When he spotted her dashing, he cursed out Felix at third for not warning him sooner and threw the ball toward Pan at home, but due to his lack of preparation for the throw, it fell short, making Pan shuffle around to grab it before Emma touched home. Not concerning herself with the other team and their attempts to get her out, she leapt into the air and slid into home, not only touching it to be called safe, but also marking the first time ever she’s slid on a baseball field. Her team jumped off their bench and ran over to her to celebrate her stealing home, and Pan threw the ball at the ground in frustration as the kids from the sandlot roared and cheered. Liam, Robin, Will, and David lifted Emma as the team continued cheering for her. She really felt like a real baseball player at that moment, and she felt like part of a real team. As the boys put her down, she high-fived everyone as they made their way back to their bench so they could continue the game.

“Maybe we should follow a mercy rule, huh, Neal?” Emma was surprised by Liam’s instigation, but she stopped paying attention to the ensuing argument about mercy rule as Killian caught her by the arm.

“Are you alright? Your leg is bleeding.” That’s not what she thought he’d say, but she looked down to see that she scraped her leg while sliding. There were cuts and scrapes from her knee down the side of her leg. Emma laughed to herself, as she just figured out why baseball players wear pants.

“I’m fine. Just scrapes.” Killian let out a breath in relief. “I can play the rest of the game and get some Band-Aids when I get home.” Killian gave her a look as if to ask if she was sure. She smiled at him and walked slowly toward the dugout to show him she was serious about finishing this game.

“Wait, Swan!” Killian stopped her before she sat down with the rest of the team. He scratched at the spot where his cap met the back of his ear. “That was incredible.”

Feeling heat rush to her cheeks, Emma looked down as she quietly said, “thanks.”

“How’d it feel?”

“Unbelievable.” ---- To say the game was a success would be an understatement. In fact, they beat the crap out of those guys. The game was a series of the crack of the bat against the ball. They only allowed Neal’s team two more runs the entire game.

As the team all went to their respective homes to gather their saved-up allowances for a celebration at the nearest convenience store, Killian caught up to Emma.

“Hey, Swan.”

“Hey, Killian.”

“Do you want to watch baseball with me?”

“But the team’s going to get candy and Slurpees.”

Killian took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was thinking of skipping out on that.”

Emma stopped in her tracks. “Really?” He shrugged as he stopped a couple steps ahead of her.

“I kinda want to save my money for when we go to that baseball game.” Emma nodded in understanding but stayed silent. Killian sighed. “Will you at least clean up your leg before you go with them?”

After a brief pause, Emma spoke. “Actually, I was thinking I’d watch baseball with my best friend instead.” Killian raised his eyebrows. “After I get some Band-Aids,” she added.

“Liam,” Killian called after his brother, who looked back at Emma and Killian, who were way behind the rest of the group. “Emma and I are going to skip the store. See you at home.” Liam nodded and joined the other boys as they made their way down the street.

“Do you want to come over?” Emma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ingrid and Arthur are still at work, but they won’t mind.”

“Sure, Swan.” Emma led Killian to her house. She unlocked the door and showed him to the living room, where the Swans kept their best television set.

“You can start watching if you want.” She handed him the remote. “I’ll be back once I wash this off and get a couple Band-Aids.”

Killian put the remote on the arm of the couch. “Let me help you.”

“Okay,” Emma replied softly as she went upstairs to her bathroom. “There should be some first aid stuff in here.” Emma went to bend down to look under the sink, but Killian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Sit down, Swan. Let me.” She just nodded as she sat on the closed toilet and Killian rummaged under her sink. She stretched her leg out over the bathtub edge next to her as she waited for her friend. “Aha!” He pulled out a white first-aid kit and placed it on the sink. He opened it and fished out some antibiotic cream and a few large Band-Aids. “I’m going to wash it off first. Do you have a clean rag I can use?”

“Washcloths are in the towel closet behind you.” Killian nodded and grabbed a teal washcloth and wet it with cold water and some soap. He wrung it out to even the soap covering and turned to Emma.

“Sorry if this hurts. It’s just soap and water, but you never know.” He waited for Emma’s signal that she was ready before he turned his attention to her scraped leg. He dropped to his knees as he gently placed the cloth over the first and highest scrape, cleaning it out carefully and working his way down, stopping to rewash the cloth every so often. The blood had pretty much dried through the rest of the game, but it was staining the towel red. Killian finished cleaning up her leg, and he washed off the cloth once more before asking where her laundry was so he could put the pink-stained cloth in there. After dropping the cloth in the laundry basket, Killian came back to Emma and started opening Band-Aids.

“Thanks for this, Killian.”

He stopped what he was doing and smiled at her.

“Of course, Swan.” He turned back to opening the Band-Aid wrapper in his hand. “And I know you could have done this yourself, but you don’t have to. I hope you know that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah. I’m figuring that out.”

“And you didn’t have to ditch the rest of the group just because I was.” He put down the open Band-Aid in his hand and looked at her. “You didn’t do that because I asked you to, right?”

“Don’t worry, Killian. I’m not really in the mood to spend all my money on bubble gum and candy.”

“And I really don’t need to see Scarlet puke up multi-colored Slurpee.” They both laughed.

“That too.” Neither of them did anything for a moment. “Besides,” Emma broke the silence and looked at the ground before bringing her eyes back to Killian’s, “I have a box of Apollo bars downstairs. Ever since she found out it’s my favorite candy, Ingrid always keeps some in the house.”

“Well, you’ve definitely earned an Apollo bar, Swan. Stealing home! Do you know how hard that is?!” Killian put some antibiotic cream on the soft part of each of the bandages as he went on about what a great game they all played. Emma couldn’t keep her attention on his words because a thought was nagging at the back of her mind.

“Uh, Killian,” Emma frowned. “I want to tell you something. Just so you know.”

“Yeah, Swan?”

“Liam - he told me about you and Neal.” Killian nearly dropped the Band-Aid in his hand.

“He did?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It wasn’t his story to tell. He just thought I should know why you all hate Neal so much.”

Killian put down the Band-Aid this time. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m not proud of it.”

“It’s okay,” Emma covered his left hand with her right. His hand twitched in response, but he didn’t pull away. She could feel the scars from where his hand had busted open; they would never go away completely. “I just wanted you to know that I know.” He nodded. “And Neal’s a jerk. He probably deserved it.” Emma laughed softly when Killian chuckled, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Thanks, Swan.” They shared a smile before Killian brought his attention back to the task at hand. “So all these bandages have cream on them to keep your scrapes from getting infected.” He grabbed one and again looked to Emma for a cue to start. She nodded and he put the first Band-Aid on her knee, then the rest where the scrapes were the worst. After he finished, he threw the wrappers in the trash and put the cream back in the first-aid kit. “All done.”

“Thank you, Killian.” There was more comfortable silence as Killian returned the first-aid where he got it.

“Ready to watch some baseball?”

“Yeah. Totally. Want an Apollo bar?” She asked as they made their way back downstairs.

He stopped just short of the last couple steps. She almost fell on top of him. “You’d share your favorite candy with me?”

“Sure.”

“Um, yeah. That’d be great.” Emma noticed his ears turning pink before he turned around and found a spot on her couch. Emma grabbed two Apollo bars from the kitchen and took a seat next to him as he found a game to watch on TV.

And watching the game with Killian was just like the first time - Killian interrupting the game with trivia and stats while Emma took everything in, both the game and Killian. ---- Ingrid came home in the middle of the eighth inning.

“Emma, I’m home!”

“In here, Ingrid!” Emma’s mother walked in the living room to find Emma and Killian sitting next to each other on the couch, two empty Apollo bar wrappers on the coffee table in front of them.

“Hi there, Killian. Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Mrs. Swan,” Killian smiled at Ingrid.

“Please, it’s Ingrid, especially now that you’re best friends with my daughter.” She picked up the candy wrappers and threw them away as Killian blushed ever so slightly and reassured her he’d call her Ingrid from then on, though they both knew he wouldn’t. “Killian,” Ingrid called from the kitchen, “would you like to stay for dinner?”

He muted the television and shifted so he was facing the kitchen. “I don’t want to inconvenience your family.”

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I’ll call your mom.”

Killian turned to Emma to see if she’d like him to stay. That would make all the difference. She nodded enthusiastically. “Stay.”

“I’d love to, Mrs. Swan - err, Ingrid.”

“Great! I’ll call your mom to let her know.”

“Thank you, Ingrid,” he said, feeling awkward as he said it. Emma laughed beside him as he unmuted the television. Since Ingrid got home, Emma was hyper-aware of everything going on - the game on the television, the pull of the Band-Aids on her skin every time she bent or straightened her leg, her foster mother chatting gleefully with Killian’s mom on the phone, Killian’s shoulder still touching hers as he alternated between getting lost watching the game and spouting out fun facts. Her senses all seemed to be on high alert, so much so that she nearly jumped when Ingrid called her name from the kitchen.

“Emma,” Ingrid called again.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry! Tuned out for a second.”

“No problem, sweetie. Could you set the table? Your father will be home soon.”

“Sure.” Emma told Killian he could keep watching as she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She made her way to the drawer with the silverware as Ingrid checked the spaghetti on the stove.

“Did you have a good day, Em?”

“Yeah. We played against some rich jerks and we totally crushed them.” She started putting forks on the table when Ingrid turned around and noticed Emma’s bandaged leg for the first time.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“What?” Emma had honestly forgotten about her scrapes because they didn’t hurt anymore.

“Your leg, honey.”

“Oh. I just scraped it sliding home.” She couldn’t quite keep from smiling at the accomplishment.

“You scored?” Ingrid’s voice was filled with pride. Emma nodded, grinning harder.

“I stole home.” Ingrid dropped the spoon she was holding into the saucepan on the stove as she rushed over to Emma to hug her.

“Congratulations, Emma.”

“Thanks.” Emma’s cheeks turned pink as she glanced downward.

“We’ll have to celebrate. Ice cream for dessert? Any toppings you want!”

“Wow! Thank you!” Ingrid looked at her foster daughter, smiling from ear to ear before going back into worried mom mode.

“Did you clean off the scrapes?”

Emma nodded again. “Yeah. Killian washed them out and put that anti-infection cream on them when he put the Band-Aids on it.”

“Killian did that?”

“Yeah. I told him I could do it and he didn’t have to.”

“That was very gentlemanly of him, don’t you think?” Ingrid glanced over at Killian, still watching baseball on the couch.

“It was nice of him.”

“He’s a good friend to you.”

Emma followed Ingrid’s gaze to Killian, still sitting on the couch watching the game. “The best.” ---- Emma was drawing at the desk in her room when she heard something knock against the window. She shook it off and ignored it. And then it happened again. And again. Emma put her pencil down and rushed to her window expecting to sese Killian. Instead, she saw Neal.

She cracked her window open just barely and crossed her arms, not giving him the satisfaction of her coming down to meet him.

“What do you want, Neal?”

“Come down here, Ems. It’ll be much easier to talk to you.”

“And if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Please.” She knew he knew there was nothing he could really do if she refused. She was in control. She sighed and put up her hand to tell him to wait there as she headed to her backyard.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a proposal for you.” She said nothing, only raised her eyebrows in question. “How would you like to play on a real baseball diamond all the time?”

“I don’t…”

“I want you on my team, Ems.” She shivered at the way he used a nickname for her.

“I already have a team.”

“Yeah, but how are you supposed to get better when you play with a bunch of losers?”

“They’re not losers. You seem to be forgetting they - we kicked your team’s butt.” She definitely bruised his ego with that one; he was bad at hiding that fact. “Plus, they’re my friends.”

“Sure. Friends. But stealing home, Ems - no one on my team would even think of it. It’s impressive. We could use you.”

“I’m happy where I am.”

“Talent like yours deserves to be realized on a diamond, not a dusty clearing.”

“It’s not talent. Killian taught me.”

“Ems, I’ve seen you. You can play.”

“Killian took a chance on me when I couldn’t even throw a ball. I’ll never abandon him. If it weren’t for Killian, I wouldn’t be playing anywhere. Not even the sandlot.”

“I don’t think you’re getting this. You could play for a good, real team on a real field.”

“Actually, you’re not getting it. I don’t want to play with any other team. I like the one I have. We might not play on a real diamond, but we’re friends. Besides, the sandlot’s not so bad.”

“We could be your friends, too, Ems.”

“First of all, stop calling me that. I hate that nickname...”

“Little Jones gives everyone nicknames.”

“Killian calls most of us by our last names. His nickname thing is treating us like we’re all professional players. He sees life as a ball game.”

“Well, isn’t it?” He caught her off guard. “Life throws us pitches - fastballs, curveballs - and we decide if we’re going to let it pass or swing for the fences. And I’m pitching you a change-up. Come play with us. You’ll still have your old friends.”

“No thanks, Neal. I’m going to go back inside now.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“I really don’t think I will.” ---- “Emma, the Joneses are here!” Ingrid yelled for Emma to come to the door.

“I’m here, Ingrid,” Emma answers as she rushes down the stairs.

“You have everything?”

“I put sunscreen on. I have my phone. I have some money. Mrs. Jones has my ticket.”

“Here, honey.” Ingrid rummaged around through her wallet and pulled out some bills. “This is for food. This is for your ticket. Alice will probably refuse, but offer it.” Emma nodded her understanding. “And this,” Ingrid pulled out some extra money and handed it to her daughter, “is for anything you might see that you want.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Thank you so much, Ingrid!” Overcome with emotion, Emma surged forward and hugged her foster mom.

“Have a great time, Emma.” Emma pulled away and opened the door to find Killian standing there waiting for her.

“I will, Ingrid,” she answered as she waved and closed the door behind her.

“Good afternoon, Swan.”

“Hey, Killian.”

“Ready for your first game?”

“Yeah. I’m so excited!”

He led her to his mom’s car and opened the car door for her. “After you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killian.” She sat and said hello to Liam and Alice in the front of the car. “Thanks for bringing me, Ms. Alice. I have money for my ticket.”

“Nonsense, Emma. You’re our guest. Thank you for offering, but no that you’ll never have to pay when we invite you. We’re happy to have you here with us.”

“Well, thank you so much.”

There was some awkward silence as Alice pulled away from Emma’s house and onto the road.

“So, Swan, we’re going to Citi Field. The New York Mets play there. Today, they’re playing the Los Angeles Dodgers.” Killian listed facts about the stadium and the field until Emma interrupted him.

“Can I ask a stupid question - no judgement?”

“Sure, Swan.”

“Are we rooting for the Mets or the Dodgers?”

Killian opened his mouth to answer, but Liam beat him to it. “That is not a stupid question, Emma, because my brother here is a fan of literally every baseball team in the major league. And minor leagues.”

Killian closed his mouth.

“Well, Emma,” Alice started, peeking at Emma through her rear-view mirror, “we’re in New York, so most of the people there are going to cheer for the Mets, but you can cheer for whoever you want.”

Emma muttered a quiet “thanks” and glanced at Killian, who shrugged, nonverbally agreeing with what his mom said. Emma noticed Killian’s blue Mets hat, so she made the decision to just go with the crowd. When it was clear Alice and Liam were done interrupting, Killian started spouting player and team stats. Emma listened, but she didn’t understand what most of the numbers meant. She’d look up baseball stats when she got home. But for now, Emma listened to Killian and ignored Alice’s smiles in the rear-view mirror and Liam’s glances into the back of the car. ----

When they got to the stadium, Emma’s excitement receded just a tad to nervousness. There was already a large crowd at the gates. There was a massive sea of blue - blue shirts, blue hats - all with dashes of orange somewhere on them. It would be so easy to get lost. She should’ve expected that from a Saturday night game.

Perceptive as ever, Killian linked his arm with Emma’s so they wouldn’t get separated. They followed Alice and Liam to a line. When they claimed a space in one of the lines to get in, Emma looked around, already struggling to take it all in. There were just so many people around, and she could barely register anything other than that.

“You alright, Swan?”

Her mouth was dry so she just nodded.

“We’ve got awesome seats. They’re just past third base.” He was talking about baseball as he normally would, but Emma knew he was just talking now to make her more comfortable. She listened to him and kept her eyes switching between Alice and Liam in front of them and Killian beside her, and, finally, she started to relax. Killian was only halfway through listing his favorite ballpark foods when the line started moving at a consistent pace. Unconsciously tightening her arm with Killian’s, she walked forward, never allowing more than a few inches between herself and Alice. Alice handed the stadium employee their four tickets, and the group passed through the turnstile.

Emma was officially in an MLB stadium for the first time in her life.

Alice decided they should find their seats before they break up to get food and souvenirs, so Emma followed closely behind as they entered the maze of sections and food vendors and Mets shops. She didn’t know what to focus on as they passed a hot dog stand, then section 108, then a nacho stand, then a souvenir stand. She was assaulted by the smell of hot dogs and beer, and she found she could get used to it pretty quickly.

“Wow,” she mumbled to herself.

“Pretty cool, right?” Killian was beaming.

“How do you know what to do with yourself? There’s so much.”

“Lots of practice. Or coming with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Lucky I’m here with you then, huh?”

Emma found it hard to look at him while they spoke, as they had to make sure they didn’t lose the older Joneses. That also didn’t stop her from trying.

“Well,” Killian never finished his thought. She knows he would’ve been scratching his ear if he could. Alice paused in front of a section - section 122. Killian grinned at Emma as Alice worked the tickets out of her purse. He spoke softly, “I feel lucky to be here when you experience your first game.” Oh, so that was the end of that thought. Emma nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I wouldn’t be here if not for you.” She considered telling him about Neal asking her to join his team, but ultimately decided she didn’t want to ruin his day. This was special for him. Who was she to be a downer? She’d tell him another day.

“Swan?” He swiped his hand in front of her face.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I know it’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah.”

“Ready to find our seats?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled. He tugged on her arm, still linked with his, to get her to walk with him. They eventually had to separate arms to head down the stairs to their seats, but when they all sat down, Emma’s hand landed on Killian’s on the arm rest they shared as she took it all in. “It’s huge!”

Killian kept his eyes trained on Emma as she looked around the stadium from her seat very close to the field. He let out a breath of relief as he noticed her smiling. “Not too much?”

“Maybe, but I’ll get used to it. This is,” she bit her lip as she tried to find the right words. When she didn’t find them, she just went with the first adjective that came to her mind. “So cool.”

“Killian,” Alice took Killian’s attention off Emma momentarily, “why don’t you and Emma stay here while Liam and I get some early dinner. Then you two can go when we get back.”

“Sounds good, Mum.” Alice gave Killian his and Emma’s tickets and grabbed Liam’s sleeve to drag him out of his seat.

Emma was still in the moment. She watched the grounds crew work on the field, painting straight white lines on the dirt. In the outfield, she caught sight of some players practicing throws. She didn’t know people could throw that far. And the baseball diamond was way bigger than the one they played on against Neal. Thoughts danced through her head as she tried to imagine getting to play on a real diamond like that every day. She looked to the scoreboard. The Mets logo was front and center on the screen, and there was a countdown to the game in smaller numbers below. They had gotten there really early.

“They don’t look as big as I thought they would,” Emma pointed to the players on the field.

“But wait ‘til you see what they can do! They throw over a hundred miles an hour!”

“Scarlet can’t do that.”

“Not even close.” They both laughed. “And when they hit a home run, Swan, it goes all the way out of the park over there.”

Emma’s gaze followed his finger. “That’s ridiculously far!”

“I want to be able to do that one day.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. You’re the best player I know.”

“I don’t know, Swan. I’m okay in the sandlot, but in the major leagues?”

“What do you mean?” She finally turned to look at Killian for the first time since before they sat down.

“After the whole fight between Neal and me, my hand was messed up. My mum took me to physical therapy three times a week while it healed. I told them I wanted to be a baseball player, but they said I might never be able to use my hand completely normally.” Emma could see how painful that was for Killian to admit. He found it hard to keep his eyes on Emma’s.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” she started talking without thinking. “You’re the best player in the neighborhood, maybe even the state.”

“It still hurts sometimes when I use it too much. It cramps a lot. Or when the skin stretches too much.” He brought his left hand from the armrest and showed Emma. She’d never gotten a good look at it before. She was still unconsciously holding his right hand.

“So what if you can’t use your hand totally normally? You’re good - the best. And if you want to, you will end up here.”

“You really think so, Swan?”

“I know it.”

“Thank you, truly.”

---- “Any idea what you might want to eat, Swan?” Killian led Emma up the stairs and back into the covered stadium halls.

“None at all. Any recommendations?”

“There’s your classic ballpark food - hot dogs, nachos, burgers, popcorn, Cracker Jack, ice cream, pretzels.” He pointed to concession stands as they walked by. “There are also chicken tenders and barbeque and pizza and stuff like that.” Killian led Emma to a part of the stadium with sit-down restaurants and fancier-looking stands. “But we’ve also got some special food. It’s more expensive, but it’s supposed to be good. There’s deli sandwiches, seafood, and all kinds of other stuff if you want to sit down.”

Emma looked around at everything trying to examine all her options before deciding.

“Anything you want, Swan, it’s on us. My mum said not to let you pay, so don’t even ask.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue but knew it would be pointless. “Fine. Thanks, Killian.” He nodded in response, clearly waiting for her to make a decision. She glanced around her some more, still debating her options. The specialty food smelled amazing, but she wasn’t paying, and she didn’t want to take advantage of Alice’s generosity. Not to mention she kinda wanted to go back to her seat so she could have the real stadium experience.

“I like it all. I’ll eat anything you want,” Killian added, hoping to relieve some of the pressure off Emma.

“Do you want to share? Like, I get one thing and you get one thing and we, you know, split it?” Emma watched the smile slowly spread over Killian’s face.

“You’re bloody brilliant, Swan. This way, you can try even more food.”

“You’re the expert. What should we get to share?”

“What about chicken tenders and a hot dog? Liam usually caves and gets nachos during the seventh inning stretch, so we can steal some of his.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

“I know you’ve had chicken tenders and hot dogs before.” Killian froze mid-walk. “Wait. Have you?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Killian. I’ve had those before.” She felt the breath he let out in relief.

“Well, these hot dogs and chicken tenders are different. They’re better somehow.”

“I trust you.”

“Hey, we should look at merch before we get the food so it’s easier to carry and doesn’t get cold.” Emma shrugged and gestured for Killian to lead the way. He took them to a Mets store next to a concession stand closer to their section. They had ended up pretty far away when they wandered around debating dinner.

“One condition of me going in there, Killian.” He raised an eyebrow in silent question. “You have to let me pay for my own stuff here. Ingrid gave me money to get myself something I see that I want.”

Killian considered her proposition for a moment. “Okay. Deal.”  

The two walked into the little store together. Emma had no clue what she wanted. Maybe she’d get a hat or a glove so she could stop using Killian’s. With that in mind, she went to the gloves.

“Swan, what are you doing? You have a glove.”

“Your glove. If I get one, you can have your old one back.”

“It doesn’t fit me anymore. It’s my old glove. It’s perfect on you.” Emma didn’t really have a response. He told her as much when he gave her his glove, but she had always planned to give it back to him. “Look, Swan, why don’t you get something you actually want, not something you think you need?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The glove was a gift. And so was the hat, so don’t even think about it. Although you can never have too many hats.” Emma accepted that he wasn’t going to let her give anything back, but she wasn’t wearing at hat at the moment and she wanted to get one to keep the sun out of her eyes. Not to mention, she could get herself a hat, which would be special for her to have something she got for herself.

“I might get another hat.”

“Yeah?” Emma nodded, walking toward a wall full of nothing but hats. She found a few that she loved, but she made her final choice pretty easily. And since the hat she chose was actually on sale, she ended up getting the hat and a baseball signed by the entire team - well, the entire team pre-season, which isn’t the same as the current team, but still cool. Killian got a few packs of baseball cards and a signed baseball for himself. He also used some of the allowance money he’d saved up to get a jersey.

“Jerseys are expensive.”

“That’s why I saved up so much. This way, I get the jersey and I still have some money left over.”

“Smart.” There was silence as they took their bags full of new stuff and headed over to get food. “The jersey looks good on you. You’re totally going to play one day. And people are going to spend an absurd amount of money to wear your jersey.”

His response was so quiet, Emma could barely hear it, but he was smiling. “Thanks, Swan.”

She could sense him getting emotional, so she decided to spare him. “So food?”

“Aye.” And just like that, they were back to normal. He bought them a hot dog and chicken tenders with fries. Emma wrapped both their merch bags around her wrist as she put ketchup, mustard, and relish on the hot dog because Killian told her she needed the full experience. Handing the hot dog back to Killian, she got them both little cups of ketchup for their chicken tenders and fries. She got a couple cups of barbeque sauce as well because, as Killian put it, why not?

Balancing all the food and condiments, they made their way back to their seats. Emma was thankful Killian remembered exactly where they sat without consulting the tickets or asking for help. She might not have gotten back on her own.

“You two made out well,” Alice stood up to let the kids through to their seats.

“Emma got a hat and a baseball signed by the whole team pre-season.”

“That’s great, Emma!”

“Um, thanks for the food, Ms. Alice. I could have paid.”

“I know, dear. You’re still our guest. You aren’t paying for food.” Alice smiled at Emma, and Emma smiled back. “And I hope you’ll let me get you a snack later - ice cream or cotton candy or popcorn or something.”

“Sure.” Emma’s smile grew.

“Let’s eat while the food’s still hot, Swan.” Emma’s attention switched from Alice to Killian. “You should start with the hot dog.”

“Okay. So I’ll eat half then?”

“Perfect.” She traded the condiments for the hot dog. He put the cups in the chicken tender basket and she finally took a bite.

With a mouthful of hot dog, she commented, “okay, this really is better.”

“I would never lie to you, Swan.” Emma swallowed and kept her eyes on her best friend for a silent moment before just going for another bite. Killian dipped a chicken tender in barbeque sauce and bit it off. It had been silent for too long, so Killian spoke, “have a fry.” Emma took a fry from his basket and dipped it in ketchup. The fry was still hot, but she found she didn’t mind the grease burn. She shoved the rest of the fry into her mouth after it had been exposed to the air for a few seconds before finishing her half of the hot dog.

“No other hot dog will ever be as good as a real, stadium hot dog.”

“Then we’ll just have to come back and get more.” Killian took the hot dog. She reached into the basket on his lap and took a chicken tender. They ate in relative silence as the players stopped practicing on the field and went back to their locker rooms.

They managed to finish their shared dinner approximately five minutes before the game was set to start. Emma got her hat out of her bag and put it on.

“The hat suits you.”

“Thanks.” Killian changed the subject and pointed to the dugouts. They could see a couple players going in and out, and Killian was already starting to get starstruck. And when the teams were introduced, Killian was practically vibrating with excitement. Liam laughed every time Killian cheered loudly or shouted comments on the players. Emma was amused at the whole situation. It did really feel like the players were celebrities with those introductions. She felt her breath being taken away as some of the players ran out onto the field. It really was, as she put it earlier, so cool. When they were instructed to stand for the national anthem, Killian was nearly beaming. And Emma was entirely charmed at the way his hair stood up when he took his hat off as a result of wearing the hat from the moment he woke up that morning. She fought the urge to smooth it down for him. Before she could dwell on that thought too much, they were sitting down again and the game was underway.

Emma was particularly fascinated with the pitch speeds. And when the first home run was hit by a Mets player, she nearly flinched at the loud crack of the bat. She watched the ball fly out of the park. Amazed, she leaned over to Killian and asked, “how do they do that?”

“They’re insanely talented at baseball.”

“So are you.”

“But this is so much bigger than the sandlot.” Emma said nothing. “They practice. They play baseball their entire lives and they only ever dream of ending up here.”

Killian started whispering predictions of plays into Emma’s ear, most of which actually pan out. When she adjusted to the depth perception change from their seats near third base, Emma started calling plays under her breath as they happened. Killian was impressed with her accuracy. For someone who couldn’t even throw a ball, she was a fast learner.

When a foul ball landed on the field directly in front of her, the ball boy threw the ball into the stands in their direction. It seemed to land directly in Killian’s hands, and he instantly gave it to her.

“I want you to have it. It’s your first game. It’s special.”

“You caught it. I can’t take it from you.”

“I want you to have it. Please.” She took the ball from his outstretched hand.

“Thank you, Killian. Seriously, thank you.”  She held onto the ball for two entire innings until, like Killian predicted, Liam came back with nachos in the seventh inning. Grumbling as Killian started stealing salsa- and cheese-covered chips, Liam offered the nachos to Emma. Putting her ball in her bag for safekeeping, she thanked Liam as she took a chip from the top with barely any cheese, but a big jalapeno on top.

“Emma, are you sure? That’s a jalapeno. It’s super spicy.”

“I like spice,” she reassured Liam. He still looked unsure. She ate the chip and jalapeno in one bite. She didn’t even flinch.

“Wow, I’m impressed.” Liam held the nachos out to her again. “You can eat my nachos whenever you want, especially if you eat the jalapenos.” Emma took another chip, but this time there was some salsa and cheese as well as a jalapeno. She crunched the chip and turned back to Killian, offering him another chip she grabbed when Liam offered.

“Thanks, Swan.” He took the chip from her and ate it. “I can’t believe you can eat jalapenos like that. I thought I was the only one.”

“You like jalapenos, too?”

“Aye. That’s the only reason Liam gets them.” She snagged Killian a toppings-covered chip with a juicy jalapeno sitting on top.

“How come Liam doesn’t want to share with you then? I mean, if he gets them for you, why was he all grumpy about you taking his chips?”

“He wants me to eat only the jalapenos.” They both laughed. “Sometimes I just want a couple chips, too.” They both ate chips for a minute. “Also...” there was a glob of cheese stuck to Killian’s lip. He licked it off. “...I’m his younger brother. Of course he doesn’t want to share with me.” Emma winked at Killian and snagged him some of Liam's chips under the guise they were for her.

After polishing off the nachos, Emma and Killian headed out to get some snacks during a pitching change.

“Any clue what you want?”

“Actually, I was thinking ice cream.”

“Perfect.” Killian walked up to the concession stand and ordered an ice cream and a soft pretzel. When the chocolate and vanilla swirled ice cream was handed to Emma, she was delighted to find it served in a miniature Mets helmet.

“This is so cool!” She held up the helmet bowl so Killian could see it. He chuckled.

“When you finish the ice cream, you can wash the helmet out and keep it.”

“I will. That’s awesome! Who thought of that?”

“No idea, love, but I have, like, 4 different ice cream helmets. It’s fantastic.” Killian thanked the concessions worker for the pretzel and they went back to their seats. He offered her a piece of the pretzel, and she offered him some ice cream in return. Emma loved them both, but she was glad she got most of the ice cream. It had been a hot afternoon, and it was only just starting to cool down as the night took over. Emma loved the way the bright stadium lights sparkled in Killian’s blue eyes, and she may have caught him watching her a couple times. She wanted to experience this moment of the stars coming out and the stadium lights going on more often. There was something extremely satisfying about a night game.

Her experience was made even better when the Mets pulled a win and the whole stadium roared with cheers. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling, but she was so happy to cheer along with everyone else.

When Emma was dropped back home, Ingrid had to tell her to slow down so she and Arthur could understand everything Emma was telling them about the day. Arthur smiled and added some commentary of different aspects of the ballpark experience Emma mentioned. Arthur even offered her some unused ball cases for her game-used ball and her signed ball.

Emma got ready for bed, a few new additions to her room, as Arthur walked by to wish her goodnight.

“I’m glad you had a great day, Emma.”

“It was, Arthur. It really was. Thank you.”

“Maybe we could go to a game together," he suggested. He and Emma hadn't really bonded much since the black eye incident, and Emma could think of nothing better than going to a game with him.

“I’d love that.” She heard his relieved exhale. She wasn't just a meal ticket. Her new parents actually wanted to spend time with her.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

A/N: Brace yourselves, everyone. This has got to be the longest thank you/author’s note ever written.

First off, a warning: This story contains mention of sexual assault.

Now, thank yous: My first thank you has to go to @theonceoverthinker for listening to my ideas and frustrations and always supporting me, even though I refused to spoil the story for her. She didn’t have much to work with, but she helped anyway. Oh, and she absolutely wrote the summary for this story. Thank you, Jenna! Next thank you goes to @liloproductions. She took my near-15,000 words and turned them into some gorgeous cover art. This was really the first piece of art I’ve ever seen based on my writing, and I couldn’t have asked for a better artist to put all the details into an actual masterpiece. I definitely still stare at this piece every so often in complete awe. Lilo, thank you so, so much! (Oh, on top of her art skills, she’s a joy to talk to.) I was lucky enough to be matched with two artists, so I want to give the next thank you to @sailingcaptainswan. Not only did she leave the BEST comments on my story as she read it, but she also created an amazing gifset, which presents highlights from the story beautifully. I refused to close the tab with the gifset on my laptop from the time it was finished to today. Megan has some serious talent. I can’t believe she produced such an incredible gifset when she had two other stories to work on as well. She’s amazing. Megan, thank you so very much! And now @best-left-hook-jones. Wow. I am so lucky to have gotten such an amzing, incredible, wonderful beta. She is the only reason this story is readable. She’s a formatting master, diction superstar, and all-around great human being. This story would never be where it is now if not for her. I really got the jackpot in the beta lottery. She’s so supportive, and I can’t find it in me to delete any of the sweet comments she left on my story. She is a saint to put up with all my questions and ramblings and crazy weird schedule. So a HUGE thank you to my word filter, my own personal cheerleader, and NPR’s newest fan. :) THANK YOU!!! Shout out to everyone who put the Captain Swan Little Bang together and helped us out along the way. I can’t wait to read all the other stories in the project!

A few quick disclaimers before the good stuff: NPR and WBUR are real radio stations/news outlets. “All Things Considered” and “It’s Been a Minute” are real shows/podcasts on NPR. Robert Siegel, Sam Sanders, Linda Holmes, and Kelly McEvers are real reporters/hosts on NPR. I do not own any of the above.

Congrats on making it to the end of my thank yous! 

Before you proceed to the story, BEWARE. There is mention of sexual assault. The rating is M for this reason, so proceed with caution. No smut, sorry.

Now, enjoy the story!

“Come in, Miss Swan.”

Emma stopped pacing the hallway and followed her boss into the office. To say Emma was nervous would be an understatement. She loved her job, and she took pride in a job well done, so she couldn’t figure out why her boss had requested her presence. And not knowing may have been worse than knowing she did something wrong and dreading the meeting all day. But she showed up at her boss’ office as soon as her shift was up, not even stopping at her own cubicle so she could get ready to head home after the mysterious meeting. Getting there early led to the nervous pacing as Emma let her mind wander, debating what she could have possibly done wrong to warrant a talk with her boss. Being called to come in was almost a relief.

“Thank you for coming by.”

Emma sat in the chair facing her boss, suddenly feeling far too low on the ground. Her boss sat across from her, seeming to tower over the big mahogany desk, and Emma actually had to look up to make eye contact. Appropriate, Emma thought, as the state of her job and general well-being was in the hands of the woman looking down at her. Her boss sighed when Emma didn’t say anything.

“You’re not in trouble, Emma.”

Regina Mills - station manager at Storybrooke Public Radio - crossed her legs under her desk, pulled the jacket of her pantsuit tighter around her, and turned her laptop so Emma could see the screen.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Robert Siegel is leaving ‘All Things Considered’.” Emma shook her head, still unsure of why exactly she was called into her boss’ office. Regina didn’t try to hide her eye roll at Emma’s inability to put the pieces together. “Robert Siegel is leaving ‘All Things Considered,’ which means there’s an opening for a host position at NPR.”

Regina sighed again at Emma’s silence, irritation creeping into her voice as she continued. “The job will be open to anyone, but NPR wants, ideally, to hire someone from one of their member stations.”

Emma nodded, a bit stunned at the course of the conversation.

“The managers at NPR are asking member stations for recommendations. They want reliable reporters who are strong journalists, and I’ve given them your name.”

Emma couldn’t be sure how far her jaw dropped, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it hit the floor. NPR was the big leagues of public radio, and working there had been Emma’s goal since her first story had gotten picked up by her college’s radio station. She’d immediately changed her major from criminal justice to journalism and radio. Journalism was Emma’s chance to give a voice to the voiceless and shed some light on matters of importance. Emma Swan had a talent for presenting news in an unbiased manner, and she had something of a built-in lie detector that repeatedly proved helpful in sniffing out the truth from the lies - a skill of great value in the world of journalism. And now Emma Swan had a real chance to work for NPR.

Realizing she’d been staring at her boss with a dumbstruck look on her face for a questionable amount of time, Emma shook herself out of it. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Regina.”

“You’ll still need to go through the application process, but your work at this station gives you an edge. Of course, there will be plenty of other people in your situation, but I know how talented you are, Miss Swan. You have a gift for radio journalism.” Emma had known Regina since high school, and she’d never heard her compliment someone like that. Her jaw dropped for the second time.

“I expect you won’t let me down.”

“Of course not. I want this.” Emma had never felt more determined in her entire life.

“You may go now, Miss Swan.”

Emma stood up and walked to the door. She paused before walking out.

“Thank you.”

Regina just nodded, not looking up from her laptop. Emma took that as her cue to leave her boss’ office. She went straight home after rushing to pack up her stuff for the day. Immediately upon arriving at her apartment, she printed the application for the job. She made the decision right then and there that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than her dream position. Emma Swan was going to work for NPR, no matter what it took.

Emma tapped her foot a few times and sighed to herself. She and nine others - she’d counted - had been called in to come to NPR’s headquarters in DC. She’d been thrilled to receive the email, at least until she was directed to a conference room she now shared with the other hopefuls. The nine other interviewees were talking amongst themselves, but Emma had no desire to get to know the competition.

A man walked in the room, effectively silencing the chatter. He looked like a man who was used to silencing rooms with his entrance, so it didn’t surprise Emma when he introduced himself as part of NPR’s Human Resources department. His name was Andrew Ventequez, but he told the competitors to call him Andrew.

“You’ve all gotten past the application review and your first two interviews. We narrowed down over 200 applicants to just the ten of you. And since the job is so high-profile and public, we decided we’d try to do something different. We’re going to make this process a little more interesting.”

Emma frowned. She didn’t want ‘interesting’. She very much wanted ‘simple and usual’.

“Most of you are from member stations, a couple of you are not. Regardless, we want to hold a competition of sorts. Winner takes the hosting gig of ‘All Things Considered’ and a regular reporting job here at NPR.”

Emma could do competition. Years of living in group and foster homes made her naturally competitive. She was going to wipe the floor with these other reporters.

“So what will this entail? Basically, we’re going to have you all work on stories, and we’ll feature them on different NPR shows. Even if you don’t get the position, you’ll have been featured. We’ll occasionally suggest stories we want covered, and the rest you’ll find on your own. We will evaluate how you cover the stories both in writing, and on air. We also want to get the donors involved. While our evaluations will make up the bulk of our hiring criteria, we will be asking the opinions of our donors.”

A chorus of chatter arose in the room. The ten applicants glanced around at each other, sizing the others up. Emma peeked around as well, intrigued by the challenge and ready to crush it.

“The competition will begin tomorrow. Today, we’ll give you a tour around the complex, and we’ll let you take some time to get to know each other.”

Emma wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone. Once the competition was over, she’d likely never see any of them again. Thinking she could escape to the hallway until the tour, she slunk back and tried to make her escape. But before she could dart out of the room, her path to the door was blocked.

“Killian Jones, Boston Public Radio. And you are?”

Emma huffed out a breath and stood up straight, taking in Killian Jones. Damn, he was attractive. He was dressed in clothes that absolutely had to be made for him - clothing just doesn’t look like that on most people. Black jeans, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. Well, hot damn. Her eyes trailed upward; his shirt was strategically unbuttoned at the top, displaying thick, dark tufts of chest hair. Emma’s mouth was getting dry already. Forcing her gaze from his chest, she scanned him from the neck up - well-groomed scruff and hair of a god. It was professionally disheveled - if that’s even a thing - and it made him look good. Snap out of it, Emma.

She met his eyes, ready to narrow her own and challenge him. Boy, was that a mistake. She had never seen anything so blue in all her life. His eyes were the color of forget-me-nots, and there was so much soul in his eyes, she could get lost. Hell, she probably stared into them for an unreasonable amount of time, but she couldn’t be sure because she also seemed to lose track of time in that blue. Ripping her eyes away from the magnetic pull of his, she crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Everything alright, love?”

She didn’t realize his hand had been extended this whole time. She ignored it.

“I’m not your love.”

“Well, considering you haven’t told me your name, I don’t know what I’m to call you.” He leaned back against the doorframe - wow, she’d been so close to escaping before he trapped her - and cocked his head at her, waiting for her to say something.

Looking at the floor, she answered him, “Emma Swan, Storybrooke Public Radio.” She still didn’t take his hand. He took that as his cue to drop it.

“I’ve never heard of Storybrooke before.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Where is it, if I may ask?”

“Maine.”

“You’re not making it easy to speak to you, Swan.” She tried to move to the door, but he got up from leaning on the doorframe to block her.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t feel like talking.”

“To me?”

“To anyone. Hence why I was trying to leave the room before you blocked me.” She may have pointed her finger at him on the word “you.” He may have smirked. The idiot.

“And you don’t want to get to know the competition? Sniff out any weaknesses?”

“Don’t need to. I’ll win anyway.”

“You’re pretty confident there, Swan.”

“My name is Emma. And I’m confident because I know I’m good.”

“So is everyone in this room,” he clicked his tongue, “allegedly.” He shrugged.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“What?”

“Sniffing out my weaknesses?”

“I don’t think you have any.” Emma wasn’t expecting that answer. She was stunned silent. She hoped she didn’t let the shock show on her face, but by the smirk on his, she’s pretty sure she wasn’t successful at controlling that particular facial expression.

Emma raised an eyebrow in question.

“I may have just met you, Swan, but I know better than to underestimate you.” He stood up from against the doorframe and moved aside, clearing the doorway for Emma. She eyed him for a moment before stepping toward the open doorway.

As she passed him on her way out, she turned and said, “good,” leaving him to watch as she left.

Emma was no happier to see the other nine reporters at NPR headquarters the next day. However, Emma was happy to begin the actual competition. She’d been itching to do a story since she arrived in DC. Positioning herself as close to the door as possible without actually being in the hallway, she stood and waited. She wanted to get some of the complimentary coffee on the table in the far end of the room, but Killian Jones was sitting there talking to two of the other competitors. Emma figured she could go without coffee if it meant avoiding being roped into another conversation with Killian Jones.

“Alright reporters,” the NPR executive - Andrew - clapped his hands once as he entered the same conference room from the previous day. “We can’t expect your home stations to fund your housing for the entirety of the competition, so we are going to provide you with rooms at a hotel a few blocks from here.” Emma spared a glance at her competitors. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that this was exciting. Emma was certainly thrilled at the idea; the hotel Regina set her up with was pretty run-down, but it had the basic necessities. Any hotel NPR put her in was going to be a step up.

“However...” There’s a catch? “...We only have six hotel rooms.”

Emma looked around. Six rooms for ten competitors? That didn’t add up.

“We’re going to have you partner up for your first story in the competition.”

Wait, what? Emma was supposed to be competing against these people, not working with them.

“We are going to review your partner stories and eliminate two pairs.”

Now Emma was nervous. She was never big about relying on other people. In her experience, other people pretty much sucked. And now her spot in this competition depended upon another person.

“We’re going to let you all partner yourselves up, and the two of you will pick your own story together.”

This was just getting worse and worse. Emma was starting to regret not talking to anyone yesterday, except - crap. Her stomach dropped as she realized exactly what was going to happen. She was going to have to work with Killian Jones. She was sure of it, even despite the fact that he was standing with their fellow competitors - three of the females eyeing him from all across the room. She knew she was going to end up working with him.

“You can get started now. Stories are due in two days.” Andrew nodded once and walked out of the room.

Confirming her prediction, Killian immediately strutted over to where Emma was standing, ignoring the calls from other - female - reporters asking him to work with them.

“Swan,” he smiled.

“Hey, Jones.” Emma stared at her boots. She really didn’t know any of the other competitors, so was it so bad to work with Killian on one story? Maybe he’s a really great journalist, she thought to herself, he must be to have gotten this far.

“Do you have a partner yet?” Empty question. He knew she didn’t. She knew he knew.

“Um… not really.” She raised her eyes to meet his. His smile brightened.

“Would you do me the honor of being my partner?” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re not proposing, Jones.” He shrugged. “But sure.”

“Really?”

“Why not? You’ve already sized me up. And now you can tell me everyone else’s weaknesses.” She couldn’t help but smile a bit as he chuckled.

“And why would I do that? I did all the work.”

“But now we’re on the same team. We share a common enemy - or enemies, I guess.” Killian’s tongue trailed along his bottom lip in some obscene kind of way.

“Fair point, Swan.” Letting out the breath she’d been holding since that tongue thing, Emma smiled at Killian despite being unsure of what to say next. “We should figure out our story.”

“Yeah.” Emma glanced around the room. “But not here.”

“We can always go to my hotel room,” Killian winked. Emma tensed. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it; it was just flirty banter to him. But that didn’t stop her breathing from quickening.

“Um… No. Um… There’s a Starbucks down the street. There.” She hoped Killian didn’t notice how breathless she sounded.

If he did, he said nothing. “Lead the way, Swan.”

“Why don’t you reserve us a table, Swan? I’ll get the drinks.”

“I can pay for my own drink.”

“I never suggested otherwise. I simply wanted to be a gentleman.” Emma crossed her arms in the middle of the coffee shop.

“I’m getting my own drink.”

He put his hands up in surrender and followed her as she took a spot in line. She was looking at the shoulders of the woman in front of her, but Emma could feel Killian’s stare on her. She tugged on the zipper of her red leather jacket and turned to face him when he tapped her arm. He raised his eyebrows in greeting.

“I won’t buy you a drink, but can I buy you a cookie?” She raised an eyebrow; he mirrored the pose. “Something?”

“Look, I don’t like when guys pay for me. It makes them feel entitled to things.”

His eyebrows went from questioning to furrowed in mere seconds. He didn’t have to ask what kind of things. He knew. Emma frowned. She didn’t mean to give so much away. No one in this competition needed to know anything personal about her, yet she couldn't control her reactions around Killian for some reason. He was already dangerously close to learning some things about Emma's past she'd rather not revisit.

“Swan,” he said softly. She made a noise in her throat that could be considered questioning. “It’s your turn to order.” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot as she turned around and ordered a hot chocolate - she really didn’t need the coffee if she and Killian were just going to be talking. She was alert enough as is. Coffee would only make her more jittery.

After paying for her own drink, she stepped to the side to wait for it. Killian joined her moments later, a drink already in his hand.

“How do you already have your drink?” She glared at the white and green cup in his hand, thinking he must have flirted with the barista to get her to make it right away for him.

“Black coffee. Doesn’t need to be prepared.” Emma scrunched her nose. She couldn’t drink coffee without a ton of sugar and flavoring. He chuckled at her disgusted facial expression. It was weird standing there with him while neither of them said anything.

“Go get us a table or something.”

“But then who will retrieve my scone?” Of course he’d gotten a scone. “I am from Britain after all.” It was like he read her mind. She looked at him - wow, he had a nice profile.

“Why’d you move here?” He turned to look at her, blue eyes meeting green.

“Personal questions already? We've just been acquainted, Swan.”

“We're journalists. Asking questions is what we do.” She just hoped he wouldn't. And, yes, she was totally aware of the double standard there.

“Well, Swan, my brother and I had a rough childhood. Both of our parents...” he paused to consider his wording, “...left us back in England.” There was more to that. He chose that wording carefully. By the look on his face, he knew he’d been caught in the half-truth, but he continued. “We wanted to distance ourselves from those memories.”

He stepped forward to pick up his freshly-warmed scone using the same hand that held his coffee. Emma almost missed the call for her hot chocolate because she was too busy staring at him. That was all in the realm of incredibly personal. Who could blame her for staring in shock for a questionably long moment?

She grabbed her drink and followed him to a table.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Swan. I’ve come to terms with my past.”

“I didn’t really have a family either. I’m a foster kid.” Well, add that to the ridiculous number of personal things Killian found out about Emma today. She was just disclosing everything to him. That probably meant something. She decided not to dwell on that thought.

“‘Am’? Present tense?”

“Never really ended up with a family. My own fault. I ran away before they could realize they didn’t want me.” She gulped her hot chocolate to keep from saying more. It burned her throat on the way down and she coughed into her arm. She probably deserved the burn; maybe it would serve as a reminder to keep her mouth shut. They were only there to figure out their story.

“We can focus on our story if you want, Swan.” She gaped at him. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.

“How-”

“You’re something of an open book.” Emma narrowed her eyes. His ability to read her so easily freaked her out, but he could probably read that, too. She was thankful he didn’t show it. Instead, he ripped off a chunk of his scone and popped it into his mouth. “So, our story. Did you have any preferences?”

“I want to do something on the Harvey Weinstein Effect.”

He groaned. He actually groaned.

“What?” She gripped her hot chocolate slightly tighter than she should have, but still kept the cup’s structure functional.

“Everyone is covering the sexual assault stories.” He definitely noticed Emma tense at his words. Maybe she wasn’t the only open book in this relationship.

“People are still judging the credibility of the victims.”

“Some people are lying for the attention.” He wasn't trying to test her - that much she could tell. But he also wouldn't quite meet her eyes; he looked at the mugs for sale on a shelf behind Emma to her left instead. Perhaps he was suspicious about her connection to the issue.

“That’s true. But most people aren’t lying. And people are suggesting it was their fault - the victims, I mean - and that’s if they even believe the stories at all.” Emma sat up straighter. She was going to win this.

“Covering this - it’s not original. It won’t get us through.”

“What are your ideas, genius?” She crossed her arms. She was being overly defensive. If she were him, she would’ve been able to read her, too.

“The 25th anniversary of Aladdin.”

She exhaled harshly.

“Seriously? You want to do a story on a cartoon genie when women are getting accused of ‘asking for’ men to assault them?” She put air quotes around “asking for” and leaned in as she spoke. She was an uncomfortably close distance to his face. She could smell the coffee on his breath when he spoke next.

“Why are you pushing so hard for this?”

This wasn’t fair. He knew exactly why. He could read her. He’s probably known since she’d suggested Starbucks.

“Swan,” he sat back and his eyes dropped to the table. “I’m sorry, Swan. I’m pushing.” Emma sat back as well, taking a couple deep breaths and nodding to acknowledge his apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to understand why you're so passionate about covering an entirely unoriginal story.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most original topic, but it was important - really important. They were going to do this story no matter what it took. Emma was determined. She knew what she had to do.

“If I tell you why this means so much to me, will you do the story?” Emma’s eyes were transfixed on the place where her cup was resting on the table.

“That’s fair.” He leaned closer to her when she didn’t say anything. “Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“I don’t have the easiest time trusting people.”

She hesitated, but lifted her eyes to look at the man across from her. His eyes were wide and full of compassion. She definitely looked as terrified as she felt. She wasn't really going to tell him this - was she?

“You don’t have to tell me. We can do your story anyway. I know it means a lot to you.” He was giving her an out. She could take it and they would still do her story. But why did she suddenly want to tell him?

“No. If you're sacrificing your story idea for me, for an idea you're not confident in, then you deserve to know.” He said nothing. He was going to let her do this at her own pace. She appreciated that. This was something she had tried very hard to suppress. It had been a decade - at least - since she said the words aloud. “I wasn’t always going to be a journalist.”

“Oh?”

“I was a criminal justice major at first. I wanted to be a cop.”

He grinned. “Sheriff Swan?” He was attempting to make her less nervous. It may have worked - just a little.

Killian was harmless - her lie detector never sounded with him. The therapist she was forced to see had said talking about it would help her move on. Though, admittedly, her therapist probably hadn’t meant Emma should tell an almost-stranger. Semantics. Emma decided at that moment that she would tell him. Trust - she was trusting him.

She followed his questioning. “That was the goal. Or maybe detective.”

“You are certainly tough enough to be in law enforcement.”

“Yeah, well, I ended up switching to journalism my first semester.”

She was about to tell someone her story for the first time since college. It was daunting. She usually tried not to think about it, and yet, she was about to tell Killian Jones, who she had only just met yesterday. And in the middle of a Starbucks near NPR headquarters no less. How the hell had she let herself get into this situation? And why wasn't she more freaked out about it? Damn Killian.

“I interned with the campus police. Freshman interns were almost unheard of, but I passed all the exams.” He looked genuinely impressed. “The intern mentor - his name was Neal. He was new that semester. He was in charge of all the interns. He gave us assignments and signed our paperwork and everything.”

She watched Killian’s face change as he put the pieces together. He was already ahead of her, it seemed. He immediately opened his mouth to speak.

“Swan,” his voice was low and careful. “I didn’t know - I didn’t - I wouldn’t have -” Emma had never heard Killian stutter before. “I just thought you had a story that meant a lot to you or something. Or a friend. I don't know. I never thought-” His right hand shot up to scratch behind his ear. He really hadn't figured it out until now.

“What happened to open book?” Her effort at light-hearted teasing fell a bit short.

“You’re just so tough. I didn’t think you could have gone through anything like that.”

“I don’t exactly advertise it.”

“I’m sorry for pushing. I really just thought you encountered a story somewhere that was exceptionally moving. Or maybe you had a friend that went through it.” He had no clue what to say. That was a first. “Oh, gods, Swan. I am so sorry.” Emma just shook her head. He really felt bad.

His eyes widened again with another realization. “Oh, Swan. I never meant anything by any of my comments.”

“What?” She was a little surprised he found something else to apologize for, especially when she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Liam always told me my merciless flirting would get me in trouble.” Oh. Oh. “Apologies, Swan. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, no. I know you never meant anything.” Killian made a noise sounding like a cough that got stuck in his throat. “I have this superpower. I always know when someone is lying. And I knew you wouldn’t do anything.” He visibly sighed in relief. “Trust me, if I saw anything bad in you, I would not be here with you right now.”

“I still apologize. I made some inappropriate comments, and I pushed you too far. I just wanted to get to know you, and instead I’m making a right arse of myself.”

He wanted to get to know her? That was new. Even more, this was the first time a man had ever considered his own actions and apologized to her - not out of pity, but genuinely. And Emma knew Killian meant every word. Something about that made her more inclined to open up to him. None of this was in the plan, but it was happening.

Emma never would have continued if he wasn’t so genuine.

“So Neal-”

“Swan, you don’t have to.”

“Surprisingly, I want to.” And she meant it. It didn't make sense and it scared the hell out of her, but she wanted to tell Killian Jones her story. He considered for a moment before conceding.

“In that case, I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, Swan.” He took a sip of his coffee and waited for her to take over the conversation.

She was really going to do this. Her heart was beating at what was probably a very worrying speed. She was anxious to verbalize the event after a decade of suppressing it. And maybe it made her a little hopeful. Her therapist may have been onto something - not that Emma would ever admit it.

“Neal had all the interns doing office jobs at first - mostly paperwork. And one day, he asked me if I wanted to grab some pizza after work. I didn’t want to, but I went anyway. I figured I could show him I had what it took to be put on different jobs. So we got pizza at a place near campus. The next day, I got to help with campus security.”

Killian was already visibly cringing in anticipation.

“I went back to paperwork after that. So when he asked me to grab tacos with him a few days later, I went. The next day, I got another security job.”

“Swan, you can stop.” She shook her head.

“You need to hear this to the end.”

She barely heard his whispered, “okay.”

“Neal and I kept going out. Every time we did, I’d get jobs. I think the other interns basically knew what was going on. Some of them went out with him to get jobs, too. But none of us said anything. I know it was kinda naive, but I thought the more he got to know me, the more he saw potential.”

“Wait,” Killian interrupted her story. She almost glared at him, but he looked adamant he say whatever was on his mind. “What happened - it wasn’t your fault.”

It took her a moment too long to respond. “I know.”

He nodded skeptically and pulled off a chunk of his scone. She could practically see him thinking, but he was letting her speak.

“And one night, we were out for pizza. He suggested we watch a movie at his apartment. I told him I had a lot of homework, so I was just going to head back to my dorm. He said that if I went over and just watched a movie, then I could shadow a campus officer. Not just security, but on the job with an actual police officer. All I had to do was watch a movie with him.”

She paused.

“So I did. And we watched a movie, and I went home. And the next day, I shadowed an officer for the first time.”

Killian was remarkably attentive. Emma was seriously reconsidering the conceited, self-sure image she formed of him after their conversation the previous day. But he was still going to be her competition after the partner stories - they were absolutely going to win; she was sure of it - something she had to keep in mind. She was telling him this for her own sanity, and maybe a little for the sake of their joint-story. But she was absolutely doing this for herself, and once she realized that, she found the strength to keep talking.

“He asked me back to his apartment again a couple weeks later, and, of course, I went. I wanted to shadow again. But during the movie, he- he, um… he slid his hand under my shirt.”

Killian clenched his jaw.

“I told him ‘no’. I said that I wasn’t comfortable with it, but he kept going. And then he unbuttoned my jeans...”

“Swan,” he interrupted her as he exhaled through gritted teeth.

“I was frozen at first. I knew I couldn’t do anything without jeopardizing my internship. But he kept going. I didn’t actually let him, you know, do anything. And he never asked me out again. But I didn’t have another job for two weeks. And then I got dropped from the internship program.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and continuing, “I reported it to the college. It was this big thing. We went to university court and everything.”

“But?” He was smart. Of course there was a “but.”

“But the case was a he-said-she-said case, and the court sided with the ‘he said’ side.” She didn’t think Killian could move with that amount of tensed muscles, but she watched as his face fell with the news. “They just thought I was making it up to retaliate for getting fired from the program. Or they thought we must have been drunk, or that I must have been wearing something revealing - neither of which makes it okay. But the point is that no one took me seriously.”

His right eyebrow shot up to his hairline when she smiled.

“I went to the journalism department in hopes that someone would tell my story. I ended up at the college radio station. They picked it up - my story. I took the names out, more to protect myself, and they ran the story four times that first day.”

Emma took interest with a car in the parking lot visible through the window behind Killian.

“A local station heard the story and picked it up. Then the newspapers. And local TV news. The college got into a lot of trouble. I’m pretty sure they knew it was me, but they weren’t going to punish me because they’d get in even more trouble. Anyway, it was then that I saw what journalists can do. I saw how important journalism is to society. I loved that they believed me, and they actually made change happen. The college changed all their proceedings for sexual assault charges. So yeah, I switched my major the day I saw my story on the news.”

Killian put his coffee cup on the table and leaned in.

“Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I don’t want to let that control me anymore.”

And it was true. She felt freer already. She wasn’t sure what it was about Killian, but she trusted him completely. And her usual urge to run was nowhere to be found. That should have scared her the most. It didn’t. That must be significant. She tried not to dwell on that.

Emma grabbed her hot chocolate and took a large swig of it - anything to keep from thinking about how much she trusted this near-stranger named Killian Jones who was practically thrown into her life.

“I was right.” She put her cup down and sent him a questioning look

“Huh?”

“You don’t have any weaknesses.”

“Can I ask you something?” They were back at Starbucks. Emma was typing up the story she and Killian were meant to do together for the website while Killian was working on notes for them to reference on air.

“Of course.”

“You thought I was passionate because I had a story that meant a lot to me.” She paused her typing.

“Mhm.” He didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“Is that because you have a story like that?” She got her answer when he stopped typing and his eyes widened. His right hand darted upward to scratch behind his ear.

“Um… Actually, I did.” His cheeks went red.

“Do you feel comfortable sharing it with me?” She closed her laptop and looked at Killian.

“Well, after what you told me yesterday, I feel like telling you is the least I can do.”

“No, stop.” She put her hand up to cut him off. “I don’t want you to tell me because you think you should. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t tell me because you feel bad for me or whatever.” He looked a bit like a scolded child as a result of Emma’s stern tone.

“Swan, you trusted me.”

“Yeah, well-” She didn’t actually know where she was going with that. She didn’t understand why she trusted him - or why she still did.

“Well, I trust you as well. And if you felt better for having told me, then maybe telling you will help free me of this.”

“Okay.” She took a sip of her large hot chocolate, which she actually let Killian buy her. She also let him buy her a chocolate chip muffin.

“There was this woman-” That’s never a good start. “We, um… We were involved.”

“You know you don’t have to, right?”

“Aye. But I want to. All cards on the table.”

She nodded to motion for him to continue.

“Milah was her name. She was my British literature professor at university. It was attraction at first sight. She was beautiful and brilliant and-” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She was everything.”

“What happened?” Emma was surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

“She was married.” Emma’s mouth widened in a silent “oh.” He nodded. “I knew it when we began our relationship. She told me she filed for divorce. Her husband was a cold, cruel man.”

“She ‘told you?’” Emma wasn’t quite sure what Killian was getting at, but she was going to hear him out.

“She truly did file the papers, but her husband...” Emma decided to keep her mouth shut this time. “He refused to sign. He wouldn’t allow her the freedom of her relationships. And he had complete control of her finances as well. Unless she was with him, she had no money.” Killian scrubbed his hand over his face. “She left him anyway. She said she loved me so much, the money didn’t matter. She was able to change the bank account her salary went to, since she was still teaching. So she moved in with me. And we had all these big plans.”

“She encouraged me to use my talents as an English student to bring her situation with her husband into the light. Her husband was a rather prominent individual in the U.K., so I did it. And the story was successful.”

“But?”

“Aye, but.” He took a breath. “But her husband wasn’t happy we exposed him. She was able to get a restraining order against him, making them fully divorced. And she got her money back.” He took another breath. “But two months later, she was driving home and she drove into a guardrail on the road.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“The seatbelt was sliced by the rail, and so was she. She died in that car. And when they examined the car afterward, they noticed the brakes had been tampered with.”

“Her husband?”

“I believe so. But I couldn’t charge him because of lack of proof. They said we’d never be able to pin him to the crime.” Emma could see Killian was still torn up over the loss. “So I did what I did best - I wrote a story on it. I made it fairly clear in the story who did it, but I never actually named him. However, it was enough for the government to look into, and they arrested him for other things - fraud, bribery, failure to appear - among other things.”

“At least he got arrested.”

“Aye. I just wish it could be for what he did for Milah. She deserves justice.”

“You did what you could, and I know you might feel like it wasn’t enough, but you did a really good thing.”

“Well, thank you, Swan. She was my first real love - not just a conquest. I never thought I’d love again.”

“Thought? Past tense?” Killian’s eyes may have just sparkled as he nodded.

“Well, things change. And the future is nothing to be afraid of.”

Emma was certain she wasn’t the only one trying not to squirm in her rolling chair as she and Killian waited patiently for final preparations to be finished in the studio. Perhaps if they were alone, she could have settled some of the restlessness by chatting with Killian beforehand, going over the last lingering details again before they went on air. But seated just on her other side was Robert Siegel - actual NPR host and reason for her being there. Her right leg bounced with excitement and nerves.

Sure, she’s had a couple stories featured on NPR shows before, but she had always recorded those stories either onsite or back in the studio at Storybrooke Public Radio. Now, though, she was about to go live on “All Things Considered” with a story she was extremely proud of at NPR studios in Washington DC. This might just be the greatest moment of Emma’s life.

But apparently NPR couldn’t afford a third microphone, which was why her chair was pressed up against Killian’s, the pair squeezed in together to share the single microphone. At least they had their own headsets. But still, if Emma’s thigh was any further to her left, it would be touching Killian’s. And that was somehow even more unnerving than going live for her first story from NPR HQ.

Everything about Killian Jones overwhelmed Emma. He was sweet and smart and genuinely interested in getting to know her. She trusted him despite every experience she’s ever had telling her not to. And she wanted to be close to him - just maybe not practically sitting in his lap while she was supposed to be reporting on NPR and focused on destroying her competition, which included a certain Brit. A certain Brit whose breath smelled like black coffee, which Emma knew because he was currently breathing onto her face. She silently wished Robert Siegel would stop making conversation with Killian because every time the latter responded, she could feel his breath, hot on her cheek. It was entirely distracting, and Emma couldn’t afford distraction right now.

Emma tried to pay attention to Robert Siegel until they were to go live - ‘tried’ being the operative word. She felt like Killian was surrounding her, and he kind of was. He had an arm resting along the back of her chair, fingers dangling awfully close to Emma’s shoulder. His leg was less than an inch from her leg. And - gosh - if they leaned in to talk into the microphone at the same time, their faces would be touching.

Emma jerked her head to look at Killian when he nudged her with his elbow. He leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“Are you ready? Live in one minute.”

She shut her eyes for a moment and focused on the story. She was going to answer the questions and focus on her reporting. She needed this interview to go well. Their stories would be judged both on this interview and the written story that would go on the website. Her eyes shot to the NPR host on her right when he started speaking.

“And I’m Robert Siegel in Washington.”

This was it. Her first story for NPR from NPR studios.

“As more and more sexual assault allegations are brought up, how can we keep up with it all? With the seemingly never-ending accusations, how do we know what to believe? Here to shed some light on victim credibility are two talented reporters - one of whom may very well take my job in January - Emma Swan, of member station WSPR, and Killian Jones, of member station WBUR. Thank you both for joining me.”

Both Emma and Killian leaned in at the same time to respond. Her hair rubbed his cheek.

“Thank you for having us,” Emma got out first.

“It’s an honor to be here,” Killian added.

Focus, Emma. Focus on journalism and the words on the paper in front of you and the questions Robert Siegel was asking. Focus on anything but Killian’s beaming smile and how his coffee breath doesn’t even smell bad.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And she did - for the most part. She focused on her story and her responses, and she sounded not only coherent, but good - really good. And she only got distracted by Killian Jones when he absolutely gave her all the credit for their story on the air. Damn him. It was charming and honest and she could see the pride on his face. He was proud, but not of himself. He was proud of her.

When the news came in that they had passed their round and were to stay in the competition, Killian was quick to quip about them making quite the team. And he was right.

With their achievement came another prize; the remaining contestants would each be granted their own room for the remainder of the competition. It would be a welcome relief to have her own space again, but Emma couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that she would no longer have Killian’s company bright and early each morning. They’d have group meetings, but now that they would be in nicer rooms, they had no reason to leave the hotel all the time. Not to mention that she and Killian weren’t working together anymore. But Emma and Killian wrote down each other’s room numbers when they got their room keycards anyway. Not that Emma planned to use that information or anything. Absolutely not. Because the partner work was finished and Killian was her competition again. And she had to get all thoughts of that smile beaming with pride for her out of her mind. But that, of course, was easier said than done.

Walking into NPR headquarters the following week was refreshing. Rather than being greeted by nine other reporters, there were only five other faces - only five other people she needed to destroy in order to live her greatest journalism dream. Emma saw only one problem: Killian Jones was one of those five people she had to destroy.

After getting to know him, even just a little bit, she found that she didn’t really have any desire to destroy Killian at anything. In fact, she kind of (absolutely) wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to root for him in the competition, too, because it had become clear over the past few days that he deserved the spot as much as she did. Not that she was about to give up her place in the competition to ensure he got the spot, though. Certainly not. She was slightly conflicted.

Her face fell when she walked in and wasn’t immediately greeted by a smile from Killian. She poured herself some of the coffee that was provided for free every morning and sat down in an end seat at the large table in the center of the conference room. Emma scanned the room, gazing just above the top of the phone she was pretending to use. She wasn’t about to let on that she was looking for Killian. Still, she couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that broke out on her face when she spotted him pacing back and forth in the hallway. After minutes of trying not to blatantly stare at him, he finally made her spying easier and walked in the room. He bypassed the free coffee altogether and immediately sat in the seat closest to Emma.

“Good morning, Swan.”

“Are you worried about something? That was quite a bit of pacing you did there.”

His cheeks immediately grew red, but he shook it off fairly quickly.

“You were watching?” He quirked an eyebrow.

She’d given herself up. Now it was Emma’s turn to turn red. She shrugged in response, not trusting her voice to hide her embarrassment.

“Well, Swan, it was nice of you to be worried about me. But I was merely speaking to my older brother. He’s in the Navy, and he doesn’t always get time to call. He wanted to check on how the competition was going.”

“That’s nice of him.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth; her tone was drier than she hoped it would be. He gave her a curious look before returning his facial expression to normal. She interrupted before he could say anything. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out so bitter.”

“It’s fine, love. I understand.” He really did understand that she only sounded bitter because she never had a brother - or any relatives, really - to care about her like that.

Emma nodded in response, letting him know that she appreciated the understanding and he was free to continue talking. He took the cue.

“Liam can be overprotective for the both of us.”

“You’ve mentioned him a couple times before.”

“Aye. The best brother in the universe. He raised me, really.” Emma’s eyes dropped to her coffee cup, the contents quickly cooling. “When my mum died, my father turned to alcohol. Poor excuse for a father he was. Liam left school to work. My father spent all our money on drinks, and Liam wanted us to be prepared for the day he passed out in an alley and didn’t get up.”

Emma listened, not commenting. Killian was yet again opening up to her, and she was going to pay attention. They should probably stop making incredibly personal confessions in public places.

“That wasn’t what happened, though I think I’d prefer it. That probably makes me a horrible person, but I would rather have had my father die than abandon us like he did.” She could hear the anger in his voice. “The man was a coward.”

“For the record,” she interrupted, “I don't think that makes you a horrible person.”

He took a moment before speaking again.

“Well, thank you, Swan. I'm glad you see it that way.” Emma couldn’t believe he thought himself a horrible person. He wasn't anything even resembling horrible. She would have to make sure he knew that, but maybe she'd wait until after yet another one of his emotional stories.

“One day, he disappeared. After three weeks, Liam and I figured he wouldn't come back. We knew he hadn't passed out somewhere and finally succumbed to the alcohol because Liam checked. Every day for three weeks, he would go out after I was to go to sleep. He thought I was sleeping, but I wasn't. And I knew where he went every night. Another thing about my father; he always preferred Liam over myself. So Liam didn't have the disrespect I had towards the man - not yet, anyway. And he went out every night for those three weeks, searching all our father's frequented bars for him. No one in town had seen him. It was after those three weeks that a man came to our house. Liam knew the man from the docks. My brother always wanted to be a Navy man, so he got out on boats any chance he got. He worked at the docks for money after mum passed.” Killian paused and Emma watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed a couple times before continuing. “One of Liam's friends from the dock told us he saw our father boarding an unregistered ship. Since the ship wasn't registered, he had no idea of where it was headed or whose ship it was. He said he tried to get my father's attention and to stop the ship, but alas, it was fruitless.”

“What a dick,” Emma muttered out of instinct. She didn't really mean to say that out loud. Oops.

Killian chuckled. Phew.

“Aye. That he was.”

“Your brother sounds like a good guy.”

“The best. Had to grow up before his time, but he never complained once about any of it. He left school to work so he and I could eat. We never had much, but he would always give me more than he had himself. If we had soup for dinner, I got two helpings and he got one. At night, I had a pillow and blanket and he had a sleeping bag. He always made sure I did well in school, and he never let me worry about anything. He said that was his job and he'd take care of us both.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Emma could see the pride and admiration Killian had for his brother. “It took about half a year for him to win legal custody of me in court, and I still don't know how he did it. But he did. And then we decided to leave the country. Too many negative memories. We went to Boston with all our money and what few possessions were dear to us. It was near water. Then, he joined the Navy, and I attended school. And then I joined the Navy when I was of age.”

Killian really had quite the story. He seemed to look back with a sense of pride for his brother, but also something else Emma couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't longing or disappointment or sadness. She wished she could read that emotion, but she was fine with letting him keep talking.

“Liam was my captain. I rose to the rank of lieutenant before I got hurt.” He held up his left hand, which was covered by a black glove - a prosthetic. She had noticed it, but never had the courage to ask. It was convincing; she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t worked so close with him. And he seemed to try to hide it most of the time. Now that she thought about it, he never once touched her with his left hand, he was always on her left side, and he constantly had his hand in his pocket. He watched her as she thought about it, shame seeming to creep into his eyes. Before she could reassure him that his hand - or lack thereof - was nothing to be ashamed about, he decided to sate her curiosity.

“We were docked away from home for some time, allowed to go into town and enjoy ourselves before our next orders came in. I had done a fair bit or drinking; seems I inherited my father's affinity for alcohol.” He spoke that last line through his clenched teeth. Loosening up, he took a breath and continued. “There was work to be done on the ship. My alcohol-addled brain decided to work on some of it. I thought I could make Liam and the rest of the crew happy by alleviating their workloads later. So I started some mechanical work.”

“Killian, I know where this is going. You don't have to keep telling me.”

He nodded. “I should spare you the details anyway.” He looked down at where his prosthetic hand rested on the table. Definitely shame. “The doctors couldn't save my hand. Liam stayed with me in hospital, taking leave from service for the time. I was an arse, but Liam made it his goal to make sure I recovered best I could and made something of myself. So once I finished physical therapy and he could trust that I wouldn't drink myself to death, he enrolled me in university. And you know how that story ends.”

Emma considered what to do next. She didn't want to say anything overly emotional, and she didn't think Killian wanted to hear it anyway. And there was something more to that story with Liam. Killian had told her what happened, but there was a feeling there, lingering just behind his words. He felt like he was always second-best to Liam. Overly emotional probably wouldn't do, although one day, she would have to tell him that he's absolutely second to none. And, god, he shouldn’t be ashamed of his disability.

But Andrew would be there soon to give them their assignment. So instead, she lifted up her cup of now cold coffee and made a toast. “To terrible pasts and broken people,” she said, taking a sip of the drink before handing the cup to Killian, who repeated the toast and took a swig of the coffee himself.

By the time Andrew walked through the door, Killian’s mood had seemed to improve, though Emma didn’t fail to notice how his gaze seemed to linger on her. How could she not notice, when she found herself sneaking her own glances at him?

They were down to five competitors now. Emma figured she might as well get to know at least the names of her fellow reporters (other than Killian). She learned their names were Jefferson, August, and Aurora. Jefferson, she found, was experimental and up for anything. He seemed a bit crazy, but that worked for some people. August was generally quiet and ultra-focused. He kept to himself with his eye on the prize, but Emma sensed he also had a gentle side. And Aurora was kind, and she cared about a lot of issues. She covered a wide range of stories, and the amount of care Aurora had for the subjects was clear.

All three of them were great journalists, but Emma felt confident she could take each one of them down. She and Killian worked together to sniff out their competitors’ weaknesses. Jefferson could be a bit too out there sometimes. August was too quiet for a hosting gig. And Aurora wasn’t much for stories about subjects she didn’t care deeply about.

Throughout Emma and Killian’s teamup, she tried to remember when she decided getting so close to a competitor was a good idea. She figured probably around the time he mentioned that they made a great team. And the amount of personal information shared by them both was incredible. Or alarming. The two of them settled into a routine. Emma had never had a routine involving anyone but herself. She just met the guy, yet they went to Starbucks every morning. And they worked, even on individual projects, together. She was even okay with going back to one of their hotel rooms. She may have fallen asleep on the hotel bed with him a few times while they were watching Netflix. The fact that she wasn’t uncomfortable with it should have terrified her. It didn’t.

Still, it was a wonder they could do such great work together when it felt that most of their time was taken up by sarcastic quips toward one another and bumping heads on seemingly everything. For two people who actually had a lot in common, they argued a lot. At least it was never over anything serious.

And Emma wasn’t stupid. She knew the talk going around. She saw the looks the other competitors gave her and Killian. They were a package deal, and everyone knew it. Even the NPR reporters they got to work with told Emma how much they loved her work with Killian. But as well as they worked together, they were competition. And Emma’s dream job was on the line. She was going to take that spot for herself. And nobody, especially not Killian Jones, was going to stop her.

Emma frowned when she walked into NPR HQ and wasn’t greeted by a sarcastic comment. Her fellow applicants were huddled together in the corner of the conference room.

“Where’s Jones?” She asked. Jefferson, August, and Aurora all stared at her in unison. Emma’s eyes flickered between the three. “What?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Aurora and Jefferson glanced at August nervously.

“Hear what?” Emma crossed her arms and stared August down. “What’s going on?”

“His brother,” August stated as if that explained everything. Emma raised her eyebrows and waited. “His brother died yesterday.”

“What happened?” Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t know. Something happened on his ship. The Navy won’t release anything yet.”

Aurora handed Emma a newspaper. “Check the obituaries.” Aurora kept her voice lowered as if Emma would scare off if she spoke louder. Emma found it immediately:

Captain Liam Brennan Jones passed away with full honors aboard the USS Jewel of the Realm on Tuesday, November 14, 2017. Capt. Jones left behind a brother, Lieutenant Killian Jones, of whom the Captain was immensely proud, and a fiancee, Elsa Arendelle. Funeral services will be held Friday, November 17, 2017 at Arlington National Cemetery, and Killian Jones will be presented with the Navy Cross on his brother’s behalf.

Emma was speechless. She immediately wanted to comfort him, but she figured he probably went home to deal with everything.

“Is he still in the competition?”

“Yeah. NPR is letting him take some time off.” Aurora approached Emma delicately - like she would break if she was too rough.

“None of us will be eliminated until he’s back, but we get to keep doing stories,” Jefferson added. Emma nodded. Good. Killian wouldn’t be eliminated for this.

“He was close with his brother, wasn’t he?” Aurora asked Emma.

“Why are you asking me? I never met his brother.”

“You two have been inseparable since the partner assignment,” August noted.

“Yeah, we all just kind of figured…” Aurora never finished that thought.

“We’re friends.” The three competitors shared a look. Emma rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Okay, seriously? We’re just friends. Only one of us can win after all, which means the other one will lose. That wouldn’t make for a great relationship.” Emma’s comment was met with silence and less than convincing nods from her fellow reporters. “But, yes, he and Liam were close. At least from what he told me, they were really close.”

“The poor thing,” Aurora’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes turned sad.

Emma was spared having to defend her relationship - or lack thereof - with Killian when Andrew walked in the room. She didn’t pay much attention to what he had to say, instead debating if she should call later or send flowers or both. Or if she should do nothing and wait until she saw him again. She overanalyzed each option to the point where she almost drove herself crazy.

When her competitors were knee-deep in story writing, she decided to send Killian a text. The rest would be up to him.

The following day, Emma entered the conference room and nearly dropped her hot chocolate when she saw Killian across the room. He was hunched over, his head resting on his arms where they were folded on the table. Emma ignored greetings from August and Aurora as she made her way over to Killian.

“Hey, Jones.”

His head shot up to look at her, and she got a good look at him. He looked worse for wear. His hair was way past the point of being disheveled, and his eyes were red and puffy. He’d been crying recently. Judging by the way he sniffed as he sat up, he had probably cried since arriving that day.

“Swan.” He gave her a watery smile.

“What are you doing here?”

His smile, as pretend as it was, disappeared in a flash.

“This is work, Swan. I need to show up if I want the job.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking a few days.” She kept eye contact with him. He looked so broken. He shook his head.

“Need to get back to normal. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up my shot at this job for him.”

Emma pulled her lips behind her teeth. Comforting wasn’t really her thing. She peered at the hot chocolate in her hand before she slid it over so it was in front of Killian.

“Here.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, bringing back some semblance of normalcy. “Drink it.”

“No, Swan. It’s yours.” He stared at his lap.

“You need it more than me.” He raised his eyes to meet hers without lifting his head. He was being stubborn; she knew stubborn better than anyone. Crossing her arms, she sat back. “If you don’t drink it, I’ll throw it away. You wouldn’t want to waste a large hot chocolate, would you?” She shot him an encouraging smile.

“Of course not.” He took a sip of the drink. “Thank you, Swan.”

She nodded in response. As she watched him take another long sip of her hot chocolate, she was sure having to go the morning without the beverage was worth it. The warmth was returning to his cheeks already - not that she was looking or anything. Definitely not. She was just worried about him. Yeah, just worried. She felt bad that he just lost his brother - that was all. She snuck glances at him for the next ten minutes before Andrew came into the room.

“Hello, journalists. Before we begin, I want to express condolences - on behalf of all of us at NPR - for your loss, Killian. I am so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Killian tried his hardest to smile, but his eyes remained trained on the table in front of him.

“With the loss of Captain Liam Jones, it seems more people have died from naval incidents than the Afghan War this year.”

Emma shot Killian another concerned glance. She fought the urge to take his hand to comfort him.

“Emma, we want you to take that story. Get it done today and you’ll have off the rest of the week. Plus, you’ll be immune from elimination this week. The rest of you will pick your own stories for competition.” Emma looked at Killian again and bit her lip. “Is there a problem, Emma?”

“I just think maybe Killian should take it.” Every head in the room shot up to look at her.

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” Aurora started.

“Well, I know he wants to be here and do a story, and he has a connection to this one. It might help him with-” she paused when she noticed no one’s expression had changed “-closure.” Besides, anyone could tell just from looking at him that he could use the time off.

“Killian, are you up to it?” Andrew looked skeptical.

The man in question sat up straighter and avoided Emma’s gaze. “Absolutely.”

“Alright then. Killian will take the Navy story. I want story idea pitches from the rest of you in 24 hours.” He left the room, leaving the journalists to work.

Emma couldn’t concentrate on story ideas because she was too busy worrying about Killian, who hadn’t moved since taking the story. His jaw was clenched and he was stiff. He was angry with her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before deciding that saying nothing was probably the best option. Let him talk first.

Aurora was the first one to approach Killian. “Hey, why don't you work from your hotel room? You already have your story.” Emma absolutely didn’t notice Aurora’s hand on Killian’s back.

“I’m fine here, but thank you, Aurora. I can get my work done here and then use my time off to finish funeral preparations.” His demeanor had completely changed in a second. He was personable and calm talking to her. And then he looked at Emma and the coldness returned.

“Let me know if I can do anything for you, alright?”

“Alright, lass. Thank you again.” Killian gave Aurora a nod before she walked away from him to do her own work. Killian turned to address Emma. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Don’t.”

“Let me explain.”

He held up his hand to stop her. “No. You don’t get to speak. I don’t want your pity story.”

“It wasn’t a pity story.”

“Please,” he scoffed.

“Killian, please.” Emma tried her best to stay calm. Yelling back at him wasn’t going to help the situation.

“You gave me the story because you felt bad for me.” His accent was even stronger when he was yelling.

“That’s not why-”

“I am perfectly capable of participating in this competition and winning on my own, and that includes beating you, Emma. I don’t need your help.” Her first name. Ouch. That was a new and unpleasant development.

“I know you’re capable! That wasn’t the point!”

“Save it. It was a pity story and we both know it.”

She could see that the words were uncomfortable coming out of his mouth. He didn’t mean any of this. He just needed to purge some of the swirling emotions he was dealing with.

“You didn’t have to take it.”

“You gave me a means to get ahead. I’m not dumb enough to give that up.”

“But-”

“I thought you were above the pity. That you understood. But now I see the truth,” he pushed on, not giving her a chance to get a single word out. “You gave me a story out of pity and I took it because it puts me ahead in the competition. That’s it. And now I’m done with this conversation, much like I’m done with you.”

He inched closer to her with every sentence. When he finished speaking, she got a good look at him. He wasn’t angered. He was sad - really sad. Devastated and scared and… broken. He walked away, leaving her struggling to figure out how to help him feel better when it was clear he wanted to be alone for a bit. She decided it was best to let him have that time, then she’d try. But until then, she was back to being a lone wolf in the competition.

What compelled Emma to go to Virginia and attend Liam’s funeral was beyond her. Killian was currently giving her the silent treatment. She shouldn’t have wanted to be there for him. But the look in his eyes when he’d yelled at her - he was lost. She knew the look; she’d had that look once.

So she showed up, despite everything in her telling her she had no business being there. What if he was still mad at her and didn’t want her there? God, she’d never even met Liam. What was she doing there?

Well, too late to back out now.

Emma hid, positioning herself behind a tree and behind the service. She stared at the backs of the heads in front of her - heads of Liam’s family and friends, all mourning the death of someone Emma had never met. She caught a glimpse of Killian standing over a coffin with an American flag draped over it. He was next to a woman - she must have been the fiancee, Elsa. She had her arm around Killian’s waist, the other holding a tissue to her face. Killian looked at his watch, nodded to two men in uniform - naval officers - and sat down next to Elsa.

Emma was far enough away that hearing what was being said about Liam was a challenge, but she picked up on bits and pieces. Everyone saw him as a hero - not just Killian. And he was friendly to literally everyone he met. And Killian hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her that Liam had raised him. Everyone in attendance seemed to know what the brothers had gone through. And Emma heard - multiple times - how Liam had always talked about how proud he was of Killian. She saw Killian’s shoulders sag a little more every time it was mentioned.

The officers folded the flag that was draped over the coffin and handed it to Killian. He stood and shook the officers’ hands. The rest of the crowd stood as the coffin was lowered into the grave.

The whole ceremony was beautiful - fitting for a man who died while in active duty. The officers left first. People lined up to talk to Killian and Elsa. Emma grew more nervous as people left. By the time the crowd had dwindled down to just Killian and his almost-sister-in-law, Emma was already well into considering leaving. She had no business being there. But when Killian and Elsa hugged and Elsa left to go home, leaving Killian to have a moment alone with his brother, she knew it was now or never. She had originally planned on giving Killian some time alone with Liam for closure or whatnot, but when she saw him sit on the wet grass next to the open grave, she changed her mind. He shouldn’t be alone. Stepping quietly out from behind the tree, she silently came up behind him.

“Jones,” her voice was far steadier than she anticipated. Killian’s head jerked around to look at her. Even from a few feet away, she could see the red around his eyes.

“Swan? What are you...” he trailed off as she approached him.

“I’m sorry.” There was more in those two words than just her condolences. Killian seemed to get that. His eyes widened and he nodded softly, taking a deep breath. He stayed silent. Emma had never known him to not have some witty comment or backhanded compliment. It was weird. She had to break the silence. “I didn’t think you should be alone.” His eyes widened even more.

“I’m hardly alone, Swan, as you saw.” She narrowed her eyes in question. “I’m assuming you were around for the service, judging by the wetness of your dress.”

She looked down at her black dress, completely unaware the drizzle had soaked in so deeply. Her cheeks reddened.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” And there was more to those two words as well.

“It was a nice ceremony,” Emma tried again as she sat down. Killian stared out in the distance, looking just above Liam’s grave.

“It was.”

“Your brother was a hero.”

“Aye. That he was.” Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. “This is a Naval Cross. They gave it to me on Liam’s behalf. I wanted to bury it with him, but the officers told me to keep it for myself. So it’ll be like I have a piece of Liam still with me.” Killian’s gaze moved from the distance to the grass under his legs. He still didn’t look at the grave.

“You have the flag, too. Right?”

Killian shook his head and laughed dryly.

“We’re not even American - not really. Just served in the Navy.” Emma said nothing. “Liam always wanted to be a ‘Navy Man.’ He wanted to serve in the Royal Navy. But we had no desire to remain in the country where our mother fell ill and our father abandoned us, so we moved to the States. We joined the Navy here; he loved it. But we’re - or we were, I guess - British. Having an American flag as memento of him wouldn’t feel right.”

Emma’s silence continued. She didn’t know what to say. She was pretty sure there was no way to make someone who just lost his brother and father-figure feel better.

“Besides,” he continued, “I wanted Elsa to have something of Liam’s. I gave her the flag. They were to be married soon. It would have been hers if they were. It seemed right.”

“It was right.” She wasn’t great at comforting, but he needed to know he did the right thing. She knew that Liam was always so much of a hero that Killian felt he could never live up to the bar the elder brother set, and Emma made it her mission to show him how amazing he really was.

Emma moved her own gaze from the horizon to the man in front of her - the man whose wall of innuendo and sarcasm was finally down.

“Thanks for coming, Swan,” Killian took a deep breath and met Emma’s eyes with his own. “After I yelled at you back at the office, I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were upset and I never should have given up the story for you.”

He shook his head.

“That doesn’t excuse my outburst. I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” They sat in silence for a long moment. “You can yell at me all you want. I still wasn’t going to let you be alone today.”

“Thank you, Swan. It’s nice to have a friend, and someone who didn’t know Liam.” He sighed. “Everyone knows Liam was a hero. He was always a hero. He was a hero after my mother died, helping my father and going to work to make money so we could survive. He was a hero when my father abandoned us. He was a hero when I was a mouthy, rebellious, bloody awful teenager. And he was a hero when we both joined the Navy together. He was a bloody good captain. He was the hero again when I got hurt.”

Killian took the black glove off his prosthetic hand. There was something incredibly intimate about the act. Emma didn’t miss that. So she took the newly-exposed appendage in her own hand. She didn’t miss the way he held his breath.

She also didn’t miss the deep breath Killian took before he continued.

“And he was a hero on that last day. If only he hadn’t been so damn heroic, he would still be alive. He saved them. He saved every one of his crew members.” He paused. “He was a hero to a fault.” Killian’s voice broke and Emma watched tears slide down his cheek. He let out a watery laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Swan. You’re here to help me feel better and I’m feeling sorry for myself because my brother couldn’t stop being a hero for two seconds.”

“It’s okay,” Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You have every right to be upset, especially now.” She tilted her head toward the grave.

She watched something in Killian’s face change - soften, but she was completely unprepared as he pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed soothing circles on his back as he let himself break down for the first time that day. He had cried, sure, but now he was sobbing - uncontrolled, uncontained.

And this was different. In this interaction, their whole relationship was changing - and they both knew it. They’d figure out what the hell was going on with themselves later. But for now, Emma was content to sit there, in front of Liam Jones’ open grave, and let Killian Jones sob into her shoulder.

This was it. They were about to find out the winner of the competition. Emma and Killian sat in the conference room, which suddenly felt all too large without the other competitors. Everyone else had slowly been eliminated over the past couple weeks, and it was now down to the pair of them. Emma glanced over at Killian when he elbowed her.

“Good luck, Swan.” He smiled at her, but she knew how badly he wanted the spot for himself, and she could see how nervous he was.

“Good luck, Killian.” She sent him a reassuring smile and took his hand, which was resting on the table. He gave her hand a light squeeze when their competition ringleader came into the room one final time.

“Ready to find out who won?” Emma nodded and Killian mumbled something unintelligible in reply. “I have a couple surprises for you.”

Emma’s head turned quickly when she heard a group of people walk into the room. She felt herself smiling when she saw her eight former competitors take seats around the table. There was a murmur of “congratulations” and “I knew it would be you two,” and Emma was overwhelmed in the best way.

Things got even more overwhelming when Robert Siegel walked in after the group of reporters. She and Killian shared a look. She was growing more anxious by the minute.

“Congratulations to both of you,” Robert Siegel began. “The executives and donors debated for quite a while on which one of you should get the spot. The final vote was not unanimous, and you should both be extremely proud of the work you’ve done.” Emma’s grip on Killian’s hand got tighter. “The winner of the new ‘All Things Considered’ hosting position, and my replacement is,” he paused for dramatic effect. Emma may have stopped breathing. “Emma Swan. Congratulations!”

Emma froze. She probably smiled, but she really couldn’t be sure. She’d actually won. She’d just gotten her dream job. She smiled, full of pride, and thanked Robert Siegel for the news. Killian looked at her, beaming with pride for her, and congratulated her, along with the other competitors. But even through the ear-to-ear smile plastered on Killian’s face, she could see the hint of disappointment in his eyes. He’d wanted that spot. She thanked him and pulled him into a hug, which she would claim was in utter joy from winning and absolutely not to comfort him. Not at all. He wouldn't want her to focus on him when she just won her dream job.

“You did it, Swan,” he whispered into her hair. She grinned even wider against his chest.

“Killian,” Robert Siegel interrupted. Emma pulled away so Killian could give the soon-to-be former host his attention. “I actually have some news for you as well. First of all, you almost won the entire competition with the piece you did on the number of Naval deaths this year. Everyone was really impressed with the work you did on that story.” Emma nudged him with her elbow. “But overall, Emma’s work was closer to the work done by a host. However,” he emphasized the word, “ the donors and executives admired your quality of work throughout the competition, and NPR would like to offer you a position as head of a new department, covering the armed forces. You would lead the entire department, but your focus would be on the Navy.” Killian’s face lit up and Emma was already hugging him again, wishing him a congratulations through her still-smiling face.

“Liam would be proud of you,” she whispered. His eyes expressed all the appreciation his mouth couldn’t while he was busy thanking other people for their congratulations.

They would both be working at NPR. That was definitely a sign, and Emma wasn’t going to ignore this one.

After Robert Siegel gave them instructions for what to do next and when they would both start, Emma pulled Killian to the back corner of the room - in front of the complimentary coffee - and pulled him down for a kiss by the lapels of that stupidly well-fitting leather jacket.

Some conscious part of her mind kept reminding her that they were in their future place of employment, so she pulled away, both of them wearing matching smiles. She let out a laugh of disbelief. “We did it.”

“Swan, let’s go for a drive.”

“What?” Emma looked up from her laptop to see Killian dangling his car keys on his prosthetic hand.

“The car. Let’s get in it.” He was grinning at her.

She crossed her arms. They’d been dating for long enough now that Emma could tell in a second when Killian was up to something. And he was definitely up to something. “Why?”

“‘It’s Been a Minute’ is on.” He was still grinning.

“So? We don’t listen to it every week. And contrary to what you seem to believe, just because we work for NPR doesn’t mean we need to listen to every show every day.”

He closed the distance between himself and his girlfriend and closed her laptop before putting it onto their coffee table in front of Emma. He held his hand out for her. She kept her arms crossed and rolled her eyes.

“I think you’re going to want to listen to this one.”

“Okay, so we’ll listen from the laptop.” He shook his head. “From the stereo.” He was still shaking his head. “You know it’s a podcast, right? We can listen to it whenever we want.” He just grinned even more and tapped his foot overdramatically. She sighed in defeat and took his still-outstretched hand.

Killian led Emma to his car, opening her door for her. She rolled her eyes again. He pretended not to notice.

Once they’d been on the road for five minutes in silence, minus Sam Sanders’ voice coming from the speakers, Emma turned to Killian.

“Where are we going?”

“Spoilers, Swan.”

He kept his eyes trained on the road. Whatever he was up to was weighing heavily on his mind. She could see it.

“You are impossible.”

He shrugged in response. Smug idiot.

Emma went to change the station. Neither of them were really listening to the show.

“No, no, no,” he raised his voice.

“What? You’re obviously not listening. I’m too busy trying to figure out where we’re going to listen. Let’s put on music or something.” She put her hand in her lap anyway.

“Just keep it on. And I am listening.” She knew he wasn’t.

“You know Sam won’t know if we’re listening or not. Relax.” Emma wished he would turn to look at her. It was really hard to read him when he was so focused on the road.

“This isn’t about Sam, love. I promise it will be worth it. Just leave it on.”

Emma let out a “hmph,” but left the podcast running. She kept looking at Killian, suspicious at his out-of-character silence. Sighing quietly, she looked out the window again, vaguely aware that Sam Sanders, Linda Holmes, and Kelly McEvers were still talking on the podcast.

“Killian, you’re literally driving in circles. We’ve been past this street before.”

He just chuckled to himself and sighed, but he seemed perfectly content with the situation.

“Just keep listening.” Emma crossed her arms and sunk into her seat in defeat.

“You know I was being productive back home.” She actually didn’t care that much anymore, but she was nothing if not stubborn.

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Are you being cryptically vague for a reason?” He laughed in response.

“You aren’t listening, love.”

“No offense to Sam or anything, but I’m really not all that into how much TV Trump watches.”

“Well, I can hardly blame you for that, but bear with me.” She had no response. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

“Where? We’ve been driving back and forth for almost 45 minutes.”

“I did that so we could listen, which you haven’t been doing much of.” She knew that if he weren’t driving, he would have punctuated that accusation with a nose boop. Emma found herself smiling at the thought against her will. She stayed silent for the remainder of the trip, actually trying to listen to the podcast.

“And now it’s time for my favorite part of the show - the part where we listen to the best part of your week. We encourage listeners to brag, and they always do. Record an audio of yourself telling us the best part of your week, and send your audio to [email protected]. We play as many as we can. Let’s hear them.”

“We’re here, Swan.”

“The U.S. National Arboretum?” Emma read the sign in front of what appeared to be the Visitor Center. Killian nodded, but didn’t move. “Are we getting out of the car?”

“Yup.” Killian popped the “p” before he walked around the car to Emma’s door. He opened it, smiling. His eyes were even bluer than usual. He held out one of his earbuds for Emma to take. He had the podcast downloaded to his phone - of course he did. Emma took it, playing along with whatever he was up to. They walked around the arboretum hand-in-hand - through cherry blossom trees and hollies and magnolias - until they got to the National Capitol Columns. Killian stopped them at rows of flowers in front of the columns, all of which were brightened by sunlight. Killian pushed Emma to keep listening to the last segment of the show.

“Hi, Sam. It’s Nate from New Jersey, and the best part of my week was finally getting to take my 4-year-old daughter to Disney World.” Okay, Emma had to admit that was adorable.

“Hey, Sam. It’s Killian Jones. The best part of my week was getting engaged.”

Emma’s jaw dropped.

“And that, of course, is NPR’s own Killian Jones, armed forces reporter. And his girlfriend is Emma Swan, host of ‘All Things Considered.’ NPR, bringing people together. Congrats, you guys!”

Emma heard the two guests on the podcast wish them well, but her jaw was still practically on the ground.

“Swan.” Killian got down on one knee and fumbled around in his jacket pocket for a little black box. “Emma Swan, from the moment I laid eyes on you our first day of the competition, I knew I wanted to end up here. We make quite a team, and you’re still here despite seeing me at my absolute lowest. So Emma Swan, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wanted to kiss that beyond-cute, hopeful look right off his face. “Will you, Emma Swan, marry me?” He lifted the lid of the box to reveal a diamond ring. It was simple, consisting of a diamond centered on the silver band, which was twisted on either side of the diamond. It was classic and gorgeous. He really knew her well. He raised his eyebrows, alerting her to the fact that she still hadn’t answered the question. Immediately, she started nodding.

“Yes! Yes, Killian.” He stood up and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised about that at this point. The sun made the diamond glisten. Emma never imagined she’d have a fairytale romance and an over-the-top proposal from a dashing hero, but here she was. She locked eyes with her brand new fiancé, happy tears threatening to spill from her eyes. One of her hands found the back of his neck and the other rested on his chest as they both leaned in and kissed - in front of the flowers and columns - for the first time as an engaged couple.

He gave her a minute to collect herself when they finally needed air enough to pull away, and neither one of them could stop smiling. He took her left hand in his right, enjoying the feeling of the silver band against his fingers.

“Shall we enjoy the rest of the arboretum, my love?” She nodded, dangerously close to letting out a giggle.

Walking through one of the gardens, Emma looked up at Killian. “You were pretty sure of yourself back there, huh?”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You told Sam the best part of your week was getting engaged, not proposing. You must’ve been pretty sure I’d say yes.”

His prosthetic hand shot up to scratch behind his ear.

“I was strongly hoping you wouldn’t reject my proposal.”

She kissed his reddening cheek.

“You had nothing to worry about.”

.

.

If anyone asked him, Killian would deny going back to Macy's several times to go shopping in the hopes of seeing the blonde he met two weeks ago again. It was pathetic, and he knew it, but he also knew a beautiful woman when he saw one, and that woman had been both beautiful and intriguing, a combination that had Killian's head reeling when he thought about it.

It was a sure sign of his impending foray into insanity when he caught himself daydreaming about blonde hair and green eyes, and he knew it was crazy. He didn't even know her name.

(But he wanted to, he found himself wanting to know all manner of things about her -- where she was from and what she did for a living and if she was married, because gods, she was driving him crazy and she was a complete stranger.)

So, even though it was completely mad, Killian found himself back at Macy's for the third time in three weeks, and he knew the woman at the jewelry counter recognized him because she kept sending him strange looks when she thought he wasn't looking. 

He didn't even know why he thought the blonde woman would come back here. It wasn't like this was the grocery store, where people would come once a week... it was a department store. In all likelihood, she was here to do her holiday shopping and then would never step foot in this shopping mall again (or at least she wouldn't if she's smart, his mind retorted). 

Sighing, Killian scrubbed his hand over his face and left the store, heading back outside to the parking lot to get his car and head back into Boston where he lived. 

Once he was back in the city, he stopped downtown at a coffee shop that he was partial to and ordered a large coffee, deciding to walk main street for a bit before he went home. If he was lucky, he would be able to find the perfect gift for his brother, who was coming to visit from overseas this year. 

"Mommy, look!" He heard a small voice say, and when he looked up the street in front of him, he saw the little boy from the mall. His heart stuttered when he recognized the hand the little boy was holding as belonging to his lovely mother, the blonde woman who had invaded all of his thoughts as of late. 

They were standing in front of a toy store, the large window decorated for the holidays, and the little boy was pointing at everything in the window, chattering away about how he hoped Santa would bring it for him. A smile graced Killian's face at the sound, and without even thinking he walked closer to the shop, deciding to just bite the bullet and speak to her. 

"I hear Santa is at the Macy's in the mall this time of the year," he said, quietly so as not to startle her, but she whirled around to face him anyway, her eyes wide. 

"I remember you!" The little boy said, and with another glance at the boy's mother, Killian knelt down on one knee to be at eye level with him. 

"Ah, yes! You're Henry, right?" 

"Yep," the little boy said proudly, "Although I'm not supposed to tell strangers my name..." he said, suddenly shy, moving to stand closer to his mother. 

"That's a very good policy to have, Henry. I'm Killian." Killian smiled at the little boy, feeling fondness start to bloom in his chest as the little boy grinned back at him, a toothy smile and sparkling eyes that looked remarkably like his mothers... His mother. Killian's eyes met the blonde woman's and expected her to say something, anything, but she merely smiled at her son before pulling him closer.

"Tell Killian goodbye, Henry." She said, meeting Killian's eyes briefly. 

Henry protested, but Killian smiled at him anyway, telling him to listen to his mother. He wasn't sure if he had overstepped by introducing himself to her son, but he didn't want to push himself on her. If she didn't want to give him her name, she had her reasons, and he was beginning to think that the possibility that she was married was more and more real. Even if the thought of it caused a weird ache in his chest (really Killian, you barely know her, get a grip), he needed to face the facts. He knew a rejection when he saw one and hardly wanted to sit around and soak up the feeling.

"Be good for Santa, lad," Killian told him with a wink, before turning to face the woman. "Milady," he said, tipping an imaginary cap, and he thought he saw a ghost of a smile on her face before she turned away and took her son with her.

.

.

Emma put Henry to bed and then headed for the kitchen, seeing a glass of wine in her future. Her encounter with Killian early in the day set her on edge, and she hadn't been able to shake the feeling, even though she enjoyed taking Henry out for more shopping.

Killian reminded her of every guy she'd ever dreamed up for herself -- handsome, killer smile, nice eyes -- and he was nice to her kid. That was the biggest thing. Still though, she had run from him, almost literally, without even giving him her name for the second time. There had to be something wrong with him. No man could be equal parts attractive, nice and charming. There had to be a catch.

Emma sighed, pouring herself a large glass of wine before nearly collapsing on the couch. She knew she was reading too much into the entire situation (they had only met twice, after all), but it was her trust issues at work here (courtesy of Neal Cassidy).

Emma couldn't stop thinking about how good Killian had been with Henry, talking to him on his level (literally, the idiot literally got down on his knees just to be on the same level as her son) and talking to him like he was a person, not just a child. Emma thought of the way he had winked at Henry and smiled at her like they were old friends instead of barely acquaintances and Emma thought about his eyes. She thought about him a lot more than she probably should have, but blamed it on the wine.

She slept restlessly that night.

.

.

Killian didn't sleep much the night after his second meeting with the blonde woman and her son. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had done something wrong, or done something to offend her, although he wasn't sure that was the case, either. All he knew was that he still didn't know her name, even though she was constantly on his mind.

It was sure to drive him mad.

Deciding that laying in bed all day wouldn't help him sleep at all, he was up with the sun and headed to the grocery store. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well get his errands done before the crowds were out in full force. Christmas was a week away, and he knew he needed to get the food for Christmas dinner bought before it was all gone.

He wasn't doing anything special for the holiday, just having a few friends over, but he liked to cook and liked to entertain, so he didn't mind splurging on food once a year. He got to the market down the street from his apartment and greeted the woman who worked at the bakery counter. His charms worked well enough for her to sneak him a free cookie, and he grinned in response.

"You spoil me, Granny." He told her affectionately, to which she smirked in response.

"Don't let word get out. I have a reputation to uphold."

"As you wish," he told her, beginning to fill his cart with various items for dessert.

As he kept shopping, Killian's mind wandered back to the mysterious blonde. He shook his head and tried to rid his mind of thoughts of her, but it was to no avail. He wondered if she cooked, and if she did, if she was cooking for her family over the holidays. He wondered if she liked sugar cookies or preferred chocolate, or if she liked something more savory. 

Trying to distract himself, he pulled his list out of his back pocket and began placing items into his shopping cart, the familiar sounds of the market in early morning soothing his frazzled nerves. He wasn't sure why one woman was getting to him so much, but she was, there was no doubt about that. 

"Oh!" He heard as he turned his cart around a corner, nearly running over someone. "Sorry, I wasn't looking--"

"Oh," was all Killian's brain could come up with to say, even though he was sure this couldn't be a coincidence. Three times in nearly three weeks? Impossible. "Hello," 

"Hi," she said, and she sounded just as shocked as he was, and could this really be happening? What were the odds that they kept bumping into each other around Boston? Boston was a big city. Big enough for this type of thing to not be a fluke, anyway. "Killian, right?"

His heart did a weird dance in his chest when she said his name, and he hoped desperately that it wasn't showing on his face. "Yeah. And I don't believe I ever got your name..." He said, hoping that he wasn't pushing too much, that she would just tell him her name before he went insane.

She looked like she was thinking it over, and he saw so many emotions swimming in her eyes. He wished he knew what she was afraid of, but he didn't have time to ponder it further as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. "Emma. Emma Swan."

He took her hand in a daze, his mind nothing but an incessant chant of Emma, Emma, Emma. That feeling swept through him when their hands touched once more; the feeling that they had met before or that he had seen her somewhere, or that this was just right. Yes, he was a hopeless romantic, but he knew he wasn't imagining this. Not if the way she took her hand back from his as if it had been burned was any indication.

"Emma," he said, his voice a little rough, and watched as she blushed prettily. Looking around her, he cocked an eyebrow, "No little one today?"

"He's with a friend of mine. Too early for him to behave himself in public." She smiled softly. 

"I like it here in the morning the best," he found himself saying. "Plus it helps to avoid the crowds."

"And to get free cookies," she said, nodding at the half eaten cookie in his hand. He spied the same type of cookie in her cart, and he gasped in mock horror.

"And here I thought what Granny and I had was special."

She laughed, a musical sound that struck him right to his very core, and he wanted to hear more of it, wanted to spend hours with her trying to make her laugh. He tried desperately to shake himself out of this way of thinking. Again, she was a stranger to him. He didn't know anything about her (but why else is she standing here talking to you? his mind asked, why else would she be here if she wasn't interested?).

"Shopping for the holidays?" He asked, and she shrugged.

"A bit. I don't really have anyone over for Christmas. Just Henry and I."

"That must be nice all the same," Killian told her, picturing a cozy home that smelled like sugar cookies and Emma and her son sharing dinner before opening presents on Christmas evening. The picture in his mind was so alluring to him that the next words out of his mouth happened almost without his consent. "I apologize if this is forward of me, but would you like to get a drink sometime?"

For a moment, he was sure she was going to say no, but then her mouth tilted up into a smile, and his breath hitched at the sight. "I'd like that. Although I'm afraid I had another idea."

God help him. "Is that so?"

"Mhm." She took a step closer, "I was hoping you'd help me carry these groceries back to my apartment since I walked here."

Killian couldn't help it, he let out a chuckle as he watched her eyes sparkle with mischief at him. "I'd be happy to, Emma."

.

.

A half hour later, Emma and Killian were walking down the street, her with a few of her own bags on her arm, while Killian had the rest, him having only two bags of his own to carry. The silence between them was palpable, but not awkward. It was like they were both weighing what they wanted to say next, and Emma was relieved when they made it to the front of the brownstone building where she lived.

"This is me," she said, gesturing to the front door. She walked into the foyer and into the elevator, Killian right behind her, smiling softly at her. When they were let off on her floor, he followed her to her front door. "Come on in," she said, pushing open the door with her foot. 

Inside, she headed for the kitchen, hearing the rustling of bags as he followed her in, and they both dumped their bags on her kitchen counter. "Thanks for that," she said, "I didn't think you were actually going to do it," she smirked at him.

"Well, never let it be said that I don't love a challenge, Swan." He told her, and she liked that, the way he used her last name when he teased her. (It helped that he had a beautiful accent, and she was pretty sure she could listen to him read the phone book to her if he wanted to, and he was so attractive, the idiot...)

"Can I get you anything? Water, soda, a beer?"

"What are you having?" 

"I was going to make cocoa, actually," she confessed, blushing at her childish taste in beverages. 

"I don't think I've had a hot chocolate in ages. I'll have one too, if it's no trouble."

"Sure," she said gently, turning to the stove to start the kettle. When she turned back around, Killian was pulling her groceries out of the bags. "You don't have to do that," she scolded, and he shook his head.

"I don't mind. Just point me in the right direction." 

Together, they got the groceries put away in a matter of minutes, only a few awkward laughs shared as they bumped around each other in the small kitchen. After that, he took a seat at her kitchen table, the plaid shirt he was wearing stretching enticingly across his shoulders as he threw his arm over the back of the chair next to him. She tore her eyes away from him reluctantly, turning back to the stove to make the cocoa. 

When she finished preparing their mugs, she came back to the table, watching him look at the various pictures she had on the table. Mostly her and Henry, but a few were of her and David, or her and Mary Margaret, her best friends. 

"You have a lovely family," he said, taking the mug from her. 

"Thanks." She replied, sitting down across from him. "Those are my best friends. They're really the only family Henry and I have." She told him, surprising even herself with her honesty.

"Henry's father..." he asked, slowly, carefully.

"Not in the picture." She said, hoping it came out nonchalant.

They both paused to take generous sips of their cocoa. When she looked up, he was grinning at her, and it caused a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach. "What?" She asked.

"This isn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you out for a drink, love, but I'll take it." He teased, and she blushed, feeling the heat on her cheeks spreading towards her neck. What was it about this guy that had her feeling like a teenager again? She was a mother for Christ's sake. She had been there and done that with a lot of guys, so there was no reason for her to feel this out of her depth with one guy. 

"And what did you have in mind?" She asked, the giddy feeling of being attracted to someone making her bold.

He was quiet for a minute, just staring and smiling at her. "You know what? This is better than anything I had in mind."

.

.

Killian left her apartment that afternoon with a spring in his step and a phone number in his back pocket, right next to his grocery list. A productive day, indeed.

.

.

It was two days before Christmas, and Killian still hadn't heard from Emma. She didn't answer his calls, or a text message asking if she was all right, and there is a part of him that wants to rush to her apartment and break down the door to see if she's okay with his own eyes.

He doesn't do this, obviously, and tries to ignore the ache in his chest that pops up whenever he thinks of her.

.

.

Killian had called her seven times in five days and she knew she was ignoring him for a dumb reason, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. Meeting guys like him and hitting it off didn't happen to her, not without some weird catch. 

She couldn't do that to Henry if he got attached.

She couldn't do that to herself.

So she didn't.

.

.

Killian had been at work behind the bar of The Jolly Roger for three hours before he saw her out of the corner of his eye. She was with a brunette that he recognized from the picture he saw on her kitchen table, and she hadn't spotted him yet, and in all honesty he can't tell if he wanted her to. Her obvious avoidance of him still stung, but it was Christmas Eve and he didn't want to be rude, so when she approached the bar, he put the towel he was using to dry glasses over his shoulder and walked to where she sat.

"What can I get you?" He asked, and it was almost comical how her eyes widened as she turned to face him.

"Killian!"

"Emma," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head, but he knew he couldn't hide how torn he felt at seeing her again.

"I didn't know you worked here," or else I wouldn't have come. She didn't say the words out loud, but he heard them all the same.

"I own the place, darling." He said, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. There was no way she could have known, he knew that, but his feelings are hurt and he can't help but let them show.

"Oh." She turned to her friend, who up until this point had been on her phone, but has instead started watching the scene play out with interest, "Well, we can go--"

"Emma, why have you been ignoring my calls?" He blurted it out without a thought, his voice low.

"I--"

"If you don't want to see me, you can say so. I promise you won't hurt my feelings," he nearly spat the words at her, and of course they're a lie, because he is hurt. 

"I was scared," she told him, honesty shining in her eyes, and he froze, unsure of what to say.

"Oh." Brilliant, mate. Just brilliant.

"Yeah."

.

.

Emma decided to call him later that night while she still had a bit of liquid courage in her system. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I think you scare me because I like you, Killian."

He didn't say anything for a long minute, and at first she thought he hung up, but then she heard him take a deep breath. "Emma, I like you. I wouldn't have asked you out if I didn't. You don't have to be scared. Just take a leap."

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before giving him an answer.

.

.

The next day went by in a blur for Killian has he had five friends plus some new additions to cook for. A smile grew on his face as he heard little Henry somewhere in the living room, chattering away to Killian's friends. 

A moment later, he felt hands ghost over his shoulders briefly before Emma moved into his line of vision. "Do you need any help?"

"Not as of yet, love, but keep me company, would you?"

She pulled herself up on the counter to sit next to him while he worked, chopping vegetables and he took a moment to admire how natural the gesture seemed to her. "Thank you again for inviting Henry and I here. David and Mary Margaret too. It's normally just the four of us."

"The more the merrier, Emma. Truly." He met her eyes briefly, "Besides, I have ulterior motives."

"Oh, do you?" She laughed. 

"Mm. I plan on kissing you under some mistletoe tonight."

"Oh, really?!" She asked, still laughing, and he grinned. 

"Careful where you stand, Swan."

.

.

An hour later, he found her standing quite deliberately under a sprig of mistletoe near the entrance to his dining room. 

He wouldn't say there were literal sparks when he kissed her, but the sparks he felt within himself shot all the way down to his toes, igniting a fire within him. 

"Merry Christmas, Emma." He whispered when they broke apart, still wrapped up in the other's arms.

"Merry Christmas, Killian."