A mini-fic that will feature short chapters, but should come together to be a decent sized fic. Feel free to request anything that you'd like to see since I will largely be writing this blind.

"Shh, Henry," she murmured, rubbing his back. She walked carefully down the aisle, rubbing her hand up and down his back soothingly, the train rattling along beneath her feet.

It was little after eleven at night, the majority of the train having fallen silent and lapsing into an almost restful slumber as they awaited their next stop. Emma and Henry had been too, till one woman launched into a tirade at her husband on the phone, bringing Henry to a wailing wakefulness that didn't stop. Not even her touch could calm him and when another passenger on the sparsely populated train woke up, Emma had chosen to walk, to see if the movement would quiet him.

No such luck. He still cried, the noise muffled by her shirt where he chose to lay his head. Not even setting him on his feet on the floor next to her appeased him, or his sippy cup of juice, or a fresh diaper, or some fruit snacks from the diaper bag. She hummed under her breath, recalling the beat of his favorite show on the television and his grip tightened on her, his head tilting with interest.

She hummed louder, hoping that the small movement meant the tide was turning in her favor.

He let out an ear piercing wail and the train jostled on a turn, swaying more than usual, and her feet slid out from under her. She gasped, clutching him to her chest, the world teetering and shifting around her, the ground rushing up to meet her.

Just barely, she caught the nearest seat, but the awkward near fall brought an awful pain to her ankle as she straightened up. "Shit," she murmured, falling into the nearest seat. Henry's earsplitting cries drowned out her own thoughts. The train jolted again on a different turn, but Emma, in her seated position, didn't feel it much.

A row behind her, she heard a thump and a swear. She snorted, covering Henry's ears. He didn't like that, flailing to get her hands away, screaming insults in his baby language. "Whe'e am I?" A man groaned, his voice thick with sleep.

She spun carefully in her seat, her foot and her son protesting the movement, to see him still sitting on the floor, slumped back against the seat diagonal from her. He was so close she could lean over and tie his shoelaces if she felt like it.

He rubbed the back of his head, pulling himself into a more dignified position.

Sitting up, he was much taller than she expected, wearing nearly entirely black clothes from his leather jacket to his scuffed, out of place dress shoes. When he looked up quizzically, no doubt drawn by the sound of her son's cries, she blinked away her surprise at his bright blue eyes and scruff covered jaw.

Everything about him spelled trouble, if she was honest, and attractive though he may be, she didn't need like that in her life. Everything, that is, until he caught her eyes, his face concerned and almost sheepish as he indicated to Henry. "I'm sorry, did I wake him up?"

She smiled ruefully. "No, he was already like that. I'm afraid he doesn't like the train much." A lie, most of the time he enjoyed the train, finding a fascination with the racing world out the window and walking down the aisles. Most days, at least. Today had been hell and his tantrum had been among one more thing on a long list of things to make it difficult.

That's motherhood for you.

"Oh." He seemed perplexed by this answer. Sis brows were drawn together like he didn't quite believe it, but didn't argue otherwise.

"Yup." She considered offering to leave, especially as Henry grabbed her hair, tugging hard on the blonde curls. Just the thought of attempting to walk while the train moved made her wince, imagining the fall that she or Henry would take. She untangled his fingers, rubbing his back again, though it did little help. "Umm, I think the next... car... whatever these are... is open if you want to get back to sleep."

He shook his head, hoisting himself to his feet with one hand very carefully and ungracefully. His other hand hung by his side stiffly and largely unhelpful in his quest. Absently, he took the seat across from her, but she knew it was intentional when his eyes flashed to hers as though asking for permission. "I've slept enough! My schedule will hardly work itself out if I fall asleep early!"

"This is early?" She remarked, arching a brow.

"Well, no, but I'm not sure what time it is, can't be that late though," he replied with a grin, stretching one arm above his head. Only then did she notice the dark blue cast on his other wrist.

She looked at his face instead, relieved that he didn't notice her revelation. The last thing she wanted to do was be a story for him, the woman with the screaming child and nosy eyes. Both of them were true, but still. "It's after eleven," she supplied helpfully, digging a gummy snack from the wrapper in her pocket. Henry slapped it out of her hand, wailing with outrage.

The man crouched to grab it till her words registered. He froze, hand outstretched, an odd spluttering noise escaping his throat. Henry lifted his head, quieting as he looked around for the noise. "I'm sorry, it's what time?"

"About eleven-fifteen."

He blinked slowly, finally grabbing the snack. "We passed the train station in Walnut, didn't we?"

"Nearly two hours ago," she answered, raising her brow. Henry continued to stare, jabbering loudly. "Don't tell me you missed your stop."

"Alright, I won't," he said, standing up to toss the gummy snack away, returning again with a sheepish look on his face. Emma and Henry fixed him with an identical stare. He looked between the two and then groaned loudly, slapping one hand over his face and slumping back against his seat dramatically. "Okay, fine, I might have missed my stop."

Henry giggled. The man peeked out from his fingers in surprise while Emma switched her stare to her son. He looked right back at her, gibbering more nonsense, this time at a rather reasonable volume. That is, a yell rather than a scream, but Emma would take what she could get.

"Well, look at that, it looks like the little lad likes me," he beamed, scooting to the edge of his seat and making faces at him. In response, Henry laughed again, waving his little fists in the man's direction. "Hello, lad, what's your name? And your mum's?

"Smooth," she muttered when he peeked up through his lashes at her with a tiny, mischievous grin.

"I thought so. I'm Killian," he leaned back a fraction, holding his hand out for her. Before she could shift her son to free her other arm, Henry reached out to high five his hand, his smile so wide that it threatened to split his round face. Killian laughed, unable to help himself, holding his hand properly for another smack.

Her son's joy and the cease of crying after nearly an hour of torture cancelled most of her reservations about giving away her name. "I'm Emma."

"Emma," he repeated quietly, smiling, his accent wrapping around her name. She looked away, her cheeks flushing. It wasn't fair to have a voice like that when it was paired with a face like that, especially when her walls weren't as high, when she was tired enough to slump back on the bench and take a nap before her own stop now that Henry was relaxing. "And the lad?"

"He's, uh… He's Henry."

"Well, Henry, Emma, it's a pleasure."

"Likewise," she replied, not meeting his eyes. Instead, she looked down at Henry, who rested his head on her shoulder, content to watch as Killian wiggled his eyebrows at them.

"I think he likes me."

"Yeah. Do you have kids?" He didn't look much older than her, probably a few years, maybe old enough to drink, but she was evidence enough that things just happened sometimes. Still, she couldn't see anything about him that screamed parent, nothing to explain the way he calmed Henry down with just a sound.

"Nope. My, uh, neighbors have a little lad as well though, I watched him when my brother and I first moved here," he admitted, sitting back in his seat with a rather pleased grin on his face. "He's a bit older now, nearly about to start school."

She smiled. "I guess you're just a natural." Unlike Emma herself. Is that why she was a bad parent? All that talent went to literally everyone else? She fought the urge to smack herself, biting her lip hard instead, because she knew it was just the stress talking, that she was doing the best she could as a mother with the hand that fate chose to give her.

As always though, she had to wonder if this was the best for Henry.

"Now I'm no expert on you, but I can recognize a heavy thought when I see one. If it isn't too presumptuous, I might say that I can, uh, offer an ear if you're in need."

Was it that obvious on her face? She had little practice with keeping her face straight, having no reason to put up a front when she spoke to no one except her own boss, a middle-aged woman with little interest in anything except making sure Emma didn't take off with the priceless books and that Henry kept it quiet.

For good reason too, she reminded herself.

"Thanks, but no, we're not… we're not doing this bonding thing," she said firmly, looking out the window briefly as the train began to slow. She recognized those buildings which meant that she had a reason to leave without being rude.

He opened his mouth a moment, seeming on the verge of words, but only a glimpse at her face had him closing it again. "Of course. I am but a stranger after all. I suppose this is your stop?"

"Yes."

"Splendid. Is there a pay phone nearby?"

"Do those still exist?" She asked skeptically, despite knowing that there was one down a few blocks away from the station. None inside, for some reason. Perhaps they really were obsolete.

"I bloody well—Apologies, lad. – I hope so, otherwise I'm going to try my hand at hitchhiking, perhaps my cast will make them sympathetic, aye?" He chuckled, an embarrassed look on his face at the swearing, as though afraid that Henry would repeat it. It was sweet, in a way, more than anybody else had done.

It reminded her that this was the second thing he had done for her. Regardless of whether he did it intentionally or not, he had quieted Henry down, enough that the boy was dozing in her arms, only jostling awake when Emma began to bounce him, trying to keep him awake till they got home.

She could pay him back for the help, in a mediocre way, but it was better than nothing. "There's one around the corner. I, uh, I can give you a lift, but if you do anything, I'll break your other hand," she warned, shifting Henry to her hip, relieved when she stood that her ankle seemed better.

He grinned happily. "Aye, that's fair."

She prayed that her judgment was sound.