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Click. Emma sighed contently as she finished booking her vacation to the French Alps. She had decided that she needed a break from her job as a bails bond person and after long hours of research and phone calls, she had everything ready for her trip.

Tomorrow morning, she was flying out of Boston and to Paris. There, she would catch a train to Saint Sorlin d'Arves, where she would stay for two weeks.

Killian zipped up his suitcase and lifted it off his bed and onto the floor. His taxi was already outside and as usual, he wasn't ready.

Grabbing his bag and coat, he dragged his suitcase outside and slammed the door of his apartment shut, locking it hastily. He ran down the stairs, his suitcase bouncing noisily on every step behind him.

The cab driver honked just as Killian pushed the door of him apartment complex open. The cold February air chilled his skin, but he was used to it. Panting, he handed the driver his suitcase and gave him instructed him to take him to the airport. Yes, Killian Jones was for once in his life going on a vacation.

After Liam's death, Killian had shut everyone and everything out, burying himself in work, trying to ease the pain. Fourteen months later, he was determined to not linger in his sadness and make the most out of life. That would be what Liam would want him to do. So here he was, sitting in a taxi, heading to the airport to catch a plane to Paris.

Emma hoisted her suitcase up into the overhead compartment and slid into seat G45. After going through various checkpoints throughout the airport, she was glad to sink back into the uncomfortable airplane seat.

Seeing as the plane wasn't taking off for a good fifteen minutes, she grabbed a magazine for the pocket in front of her and got settled.

Killian frantically waved at the agent who was closing up the gate to flight number 76345 to Paris. The young woman smiled politely and told Killian to hurry as the scanned his ticket. He took her advice and walked rapidly through the corridor and boarded the Boeing 747.

After being greeted warmly by the crew, Killian headed to his seat. Shoving his bag into a mostly empty overhead compartment, he looked down to see a beautiful woman occupying the seat next to his.

Her emerald eyes were moving from left to right as she read an article about a celebrity's vacation to Cuba. When he cleared his throat, she looked up, pushing blond strands out of her face. She looked at him quizzically for a few seconds, then blushed and moved so that he could get into his seat.

After an awkward moment during which Killian squeezed himself between Emma and the seat in front of her, Killian leaned back into his seat and looked out of the small window.

Emma couldn't deny that the man sitting beside her was handsome. She would have texted her friend Elsa, but she couldn't seeing as the plane was flying high above the clouds. Sighing, she decided that it could wait and took out her tablet.

Just as she was plugging in her headphones to watch the latest episode of Arrow, a hostess came by to offer them drinks. Emma smiled and politely requested a Dr. Pepper, which the brunette hostess promptly handed to her.

As for Killian, he opted for a glass of water. Emma was slowly sipping her drink when he decided to start a conversation.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you going to Paris for business or leisure?" The blonde turned her head and smiled politely at him.

"I'm actually going on vacation. What about you?"

"Ah, I'm, well, you could say I'm taking a break from work." He explained. Emma perked up at the sound of his accent.

"Are you British?" She inquired. Killian let out a hearty laugh and grinned.

"Irish, actually. People always think that I am British, but there is a big difference." When Emma blushed and muttered an apology, Killian spoke up.

"Don't worry about it love, I'm used to it." Emma internally frowned. Had this hot stranger just called her 'love'? Had he done so on purpose or unintentionally? Emma made a mental note to be careful around this man.

Nodding, she turned back to her tablet, hoping not to seem too rude. Killian seemingly got the message and pulled yesterday's edition of The New York Times out of his bag.

After a good seven hours in the plane, Emma was relieved when she heard the pilot's voice over a speaker.

"Mesdames et messieurs, nous allons bientôt atterrir à l'aéroport de Roissy Charles de Gaules. L'heure locale est 7h34, il fait couvert et la température est de 4 degrés Celsius. Nous vous souhaitons un agréable séjour." Emma groaned as the pilot recited his speech in French. Killian chuckled at her reaction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be landing in Roissy Charles de Gaulle airport. The local time is 7:34 a.m., it is cloudy and the temperature is 4 degrees Celsius. Have a nice stay in Paris."

Forty five minutes later, Emma had gone through the customs and picked up her suitcase. Spotting the sign which indicated where the buses were, she grabbed her suitcase and started walking.

She was tired because of the jet lag, but she couldn't wait to get to the little alpine village to relax. Emma mumbled a couple words in French and was able to board the bus. On the way to the train station, she looked out of the small window, trying to catch a glimpse of a monument or two.

Once the shuttle stopped at Gare de Lyon (or so she thought it was called), Emma managed to find the departure platform from which her train would be heading to Saint Sorlin. After finding a spot for her suitcase and her seat, she certainly was glad to finally be able to relax.

Just before closing her eyes to try to get some sleep, Emma almost jumped out of her seat. She had just seen the handsome man from the airport walk past her wagon, still on the platform.

She shook her head, convincing herself that he was taking the train on the other side of the platform. Even if he was taking the same train, there was only a slim chance of him getting off at the same place as her.

Why was this bothering her anyway? He was just a stranger. She couldn't deny that he had some looks, but that was it. Emma shrugged it off and closed her eyes, trying to get the handsome Irishman out of her head.

Emma looked around, trying to figure out where to go to check into the apartment she had rented for the next two weeks. Everyone was speaking French, and poor Emma didn't understand a thing. A man dressed in a red ski suit walked by carrying his skis, nearly taking Emma's head off when he abruptly turned around the corner.

After walking around the small Alpine village for around half an hour, Emma finally found the building in which her rented apartment was waiting for her. After a couple long minutes of waiting in line, the blonde came up to the counter to get her keys.

"Bonjour madame, avez-vous une réservation?" the grey-haired woman behind the computer asked Emma. Puzzled, the blonde replied:

"I have reservation under the name of Emma Swan." A look of understanding crossed the older woman's face, and smiled at Emma before typing something into the computer.

"Your apartment is number 311. Here is the key. You will pay at the end of your stay." She told Emma in a strong French accent. Emma took the keys and mumbled a thank you. She then grabbed her suitcase and pressed the button on the elevator. Once the doors opened at the third floor, Emma stepped out and headed down the hall.

The keys turned in the lock and the door opened, revealing the apartment in which Emma would be spending two weeks. It was small, but then again it wasn't like Emma was going to bring anyone in there with her anyway. She looked around the room, taking in the full size bed pushed up against a red wall. The kitchen cupboards matched the blue comforter covering the bed. A large window overlooked the bottom of the ski slopes, and a wooden door led to a small balcony. The latter was furnished only of a white plastic table and matching chairs.

After taking in the view and getting a drink of water, Emma decided to take a shower. The bathroom consisted of a white sink, to the left of which was located the toilet. Against the opposite wall was a small bathtub with a red shower curtain. Emma turned on the water and striped off her many layers of clothing. She stepped into the tub and let the water run down her body, relaxing against the tile wall.

Emma considered her options as she munched on chips left over from her meal on the train. She could either go rent her skis now or tomorrow morning before her skiing lesson. Deciding to go with the first option, Emma rose from the couch and put on her ski shoes and coat.

She shivered as she stepped outside, pulling her beanie down to cover her ears. The blonde headed towards a booth to get a pass which would allow her to take the various lifts around the resort.

The ski pass acquired, she headed to the ski store in which she had planned to rent her skis. After waiting in line, a young blond man measured her foot and brought her a pair of white and grey Head ski shoes. At another counter, Emma was fitted with white skis patterned with colorful lines. The young woman payed for the equipment, dangerously balancing the skis on her shoulder whilst carrying her ski shoes.

Emma managed to make it back to her hotel without dropping the skis or hitting anyone with them, which she considered an accomplishment. She decided to put them on the balcony so that they wouldn't get in her way as she cooked dinner.

Emma slowly sipped her tomato soup, enjoying its warmth. Yet another thing she had to do tomorrow was to stop by the store and purchase some food. She definitely didn't regret going to her skiing equipment today.

Tomorrow, Emma had her first skiing class. Well, it's not like she had never skied before, it had just been a while. Some nice foster parents had taken her to Colorado a couple times, but that was some 14 years ago, so Emma knew she would be a little rusty. Another reason why she had signed up for these lessons was to not ski alone all day, possibly make friends.

Emma lay down in bed happy to be able to rest after a long day of travelling. Just when she thought she would be able to fall asleep, his face popped back into her head. Groaning, Emma rolled onto her back and tried to forget the handsome Irishman.

I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Next chapter will focus more on our dashing rapscallion ;)